"Come here often, do you?" The old man said. He was sitting on the iron bench waiting, like me, for the bus. His clothes were a little ratty and he smelled faintly of moth balls. I didn't know what to say to him being as this was my first time here.
"No, sir. You?" I replied, awkwardly.
"Been coming to this stop for, oh, must be twenty years now." He said, shifting his cane a bit. His dark glasses hid his eyes and I wondered if he were blind.
"Ah...well..." I trailed off. I've never been one for socializing with strangers.
"You know I had a wife, once." He said in a cheerful tone.
"Once?" I asked.
"Yep." He said. "She was an amazing woman. Loved meeting new people. Been dead five years now. Can't say she didn't live a good life though."
"Ah..." I said, cy. I didn't know what this man wanted. Couldn't he tell I didn't want to talk to him? It was bad enough my life was a misery without some strange man forcing me to care about his dead wife.
"You remind me of her. Smell just like her." He said and got up as the bus pulled to the stop.