A lone woman occupied the bench. She was disheveled, with dirty brown hair. She wore a dress that must have been beautiful a decade ago, but now was tattered and dirty. She sat slumped. Her face was hidden and she wore gloves, so Bonnie couldn’t guess her age. Bonnie wondered if the woman was homeless or a burned-out hippie or something else. Bonnie had expected more people since it was the morning commute, but maybe the woman had scared them away.

Bonnie almost walked away but decided she was being judgmental. She wasn’t going to let a snap judgment ruin her day.

“Hello,” she said as warmly as she could.

The woman turned her head. Her hair fell across her eyes and obscured everything but her chin. It was smooth and pale. Too pale. As if her skin had never been exposed to sunlight. Or any light at all. Like an albino. She didn’t smile.

“Hello.” There was a slight rasp in her flat voice.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” The woman raised her head. Her hair clung to her face, refusing to show any more of it. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Bonnie decided the woman was weird, but harmless. If she did scare away the other commuters, it just gave Bonnie more room on the bench. She sat down. A chill passed through her.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” said the woman, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry?”

“You shouldn’t have sat there.”

The woman sighed deeply and a frozen wind swept across the bench. The birdsongs turned shrill. Darkness blotted out the sun, and a gray shadow fell across the bus stop and only the bus stop. The rest of the world was just as bright and warm as before, but the miniature eclipse enveloped the stop in raw, all-consuming hopelessness. There was no other word for it.