The girl sat there waiting for something, waiting for nothing. Through the car window she was distorted like a picture that had been left out in the rain in the same way this lost creature had been abandoned at a bus stop waiting for something, an inevitable occurrence maybe that had been lost in the time waited. I only caught a glimpse of her, her hair plastered to her cheeks, raindrops trailing down her face like tears. 
It had been years, no decades it seemed since I had seen her in this town, the girl who had been the envy of everyone, the girl who seemed to have it all. I knew I should have gone over to her, given her my coat or something, but seeing here there, alone as invisible as closed door without a key, was too much for me. I wondered why she was there, why she had come back after all this time, why it was that her loneliness revealed that there was no one coming for her, that she finally was as alone as I was, as hollow as the empty bottles that scattered the floor of my apartment. 
In the end, I didn’t go over to her, but went on with my life as if it had only been a second in time I had felt something again for the girl who had broken my heart three years ago and had left me without a trace. Weeks after that day, the scars she had traced onto my heart still hurt, the image of a girl that was as dead to me as if I had buried her myself still lingering on the outlines of my thoughts, the taste of rain and tears still fresh in my mouth. I never saw her again and I still don’t truly know if I regret letting myself pass her by. Yet it still remained, that second frozen in time snapped like a photo that had been found in the bottom of an old suitcase, a photo of a girl sitting at a bus stop, waiting for something, waiting for nothing.