Black knit gloves

Black Knit Gloves

John R. Sisley, Jr.

The woman who slouched in the front seat of the bus distressed me. Her

hair was matted, her face dirty, and though it was a cold night

outside, she was wearing only a flimsy cotton dress and a blanket

through which she had torn holes for her arms.

What should I do? I wondered. She was so obviously in need. And at

Christmas time, too. Wasn't there some shelter I could direct her to,

some place where she'd get all the attention she required? No, I

finally reasoned, her problems were too much for me.

As I pondered - and rejected - possible solutions to the woman's

plight, the bus came to a stop.

A young man, poorly dressed but neat, rose to leave. He had got out and

the bus had started up again before I really noticed what he had done.

He had slipped off his black knit gloves and laid them on her lap.