A mysterious rider boards with a quiet grin and a coin in their pocket. Something’s being celebrated, but not out loud. They boarded like they’d just been knighted at the kitchen sink, fresh-faced, wide-eyed, carrying the kind of quiet victory that doesn’t need an audience but accepts one all the same. Not loud, not showy, just… unmistakably someone who woke up today already proud of themselves.
There’s a kind of walk folk do when they’ve already won the day before breakfast. It’s not quite a strut, too self-aware for that, but there’s a bounce to it. Like the pavement’s giving them a round of applause. That’s what boarded this morning. Mid-morning, not quite rush, not quite calm. Buzzing with something invisible but important.
They tapped on, grinning at nobody in particular, and made the kind of eye contact that tells you they’ve got good news and absolutely no plans to keep it to themselves. I gave them the usual nod, half polite, half do we know each other? …and they leaned in slightly, conspiratorial, as if we were old pals or former co-defendants.
“Big one today,” they said, eyes sparkling like they’d nicked someone else’s excitement. “Ten years dry. Got a wee coin and everything. Might even clap myself.”
Ten years. Not a drop. Not even at Christmas. That’s Olympic-level willpower in this city.
I offered a genuine smile, rare and possibly confusing.
Well done,” I said. “You look… hydrated.
That got a laugh. The kind that sticks to the windows and lingers all the way to the next stop.
They took their seat like royalty slumming it, throne made of faded fabric and questionable crumbs. All the way down the aisle they radiated something big, something beyond caffeine or optimism. It was pride, distilled. Earned. Quietly enormous.
No one else on board knew. Why would they? To them, it was just another passenger in sensible shoes with a takeaway coffee and a badge tucked into their pocket. But from the cab, you could feel it. That fizz in the air. Like the bus itself was sobering up in solidarity.
They didn’t say where they were headed. Didn’t need to. You could see it in the way they checked their reflection in the window, not vanity, more like ceremony. Making sure the milestone sat right on their shoulders. Not too loud. Not too soft. Just enough to carry.
At the next stop, a lass with headphones shoved past them without so much as an “excuse me,” trailing the usual storm cloud of cheap perfume and over-apologised lateness. Our ten-year champion barely blinked. Just pulled their coat a little tighter and took a steadying sip from their takeaway cup, black coffee, probably. Or maybe something herbal and smug. Whatever it was, it steamed like a small lighthouse.
Every so often, they’d glance down at their pocket, like they could feel the weight of that wee coin. Not precious metal, not valuable, not for selling. But worth more than anything you can charge for. You could tell they’d carried worse.
Two stops from town, we hit traffic. Someone had tried to squeeze past a skip and lost the argument. Horns, hazard lights, the usual roadside ballet. Nobody died, but plenty pretended to. The loud bloke near the buggy bay offered his own commentary, “Bet they’re sober as a judge, eh!”...and our ten-year dry just smiled faintly at the window, like they were watching a rerun of a life they used to live.
I kept my eyes on the mirrors, but a part of me stayed fixed on them. There’s something magnetic about folk who’ve wrestled with their own worst instincts and come out the other side with a half-decent haircut and all their teeth.
As we rolled into town, they stood early, balanced like a mountain goat on the moving floor. No wobble, no rush. Just that same calm, contained certainty. A quiet exhale before the door hissed open.
They didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t need to. The coin was still in their pocket. The coffee was nearly gone. But the bounce was still there, lighter, now. Less like applause, more like a hum.
And just before they disappeared into the crowd, they glanced back at the bus, at me, maybe. Or the moment.
And nodded.
Some medals shine. Others just warm your pocket.
Comments
Post a Comment