That afternoon, bus number 12 was packed. By nightfall, everyone was in a hurry, wanting to get home quickly. At the gate, an old man with gray hair, a slightly hunched back, and trembling hands boarded, holding an old cloth bag. He wore worn clothes and old, torn plastic sandals, and didn’t stand out in the noisy crowd.
The old man walked slowly, leaning on the backs of the seats, apologizing to the passengers in the aisle as he went. But that only made the bus conductor—a young man in his thirties—scowl. He was already annoyed by the crowds, the shoving, and the constant shouting he had to keep order. Seeing that the old man was still struggling to sit down, he grumbled:
—“Hurry up, Grandpa! If you get on the bus, you have to know how to give way to others, don’t go so slow, it’s very annoying!”
The old man paused for a moment and smiled gently:
“Excuse me, son, my legs are weak and that’s why I walk a little slowly.”
That response irritated the employee even more. He raised his voice so loudly that the nearby passengers had to turn and look at him:
—“If you’re weak, don’t get on during rush hour! You’re holding everyone up. Who’s responsible if we miss the ride?”
The old man lowered his head and said nothing more. A faint sadness appeared in his eyes, but he remained silent as he looked for a place to stand. Several passengers who witnessed the scene felt uneasy, but everyone was in a hurry and few intervened.
The bus drove on for about ten minutes. Suddenly, from the back, a middle-aged man, well-dressed in a suit and with a solemn expression, stepped forward. He scanned the entire bus, then stopped and looked at the old man standing there, and bowed slightly:
—“Tatay*, why are you traveling alone on a bus like this? I already sent a car to pick you up!”
