Buggy Ride

Yesterday, I was riding out to the Ch’town Mall on the transit (Bus 1 for those keeping track).  A woman, a young lady, was sitting beside me.  She’s what I would stereotype as a non-fighting Tammy.  A hard-workin’ Tammy.  An Island girl from the lower end of the social spectrum, I’d guess.  I assumed she was on her way back home to her family after a hard day of work.  Anyway, at one point I noticed, on her hair, on a strand of hair (her hair was pulled back, but at the end of the day, more than a few strands were sticking out), was this tiny, tiny little bug.  Perhaps a little spider? It was crawling down her hair-strand to her head.
At that moment, I realised, I had options. I could tell her, or not tell her. I could help her out by pointing out that she had a bug in her hair.  This, I rationalised, could be potentially embarrassing for her, and for me (why was I looking at her hair?).  So, I decided not to tell her.  It was a pretty tiny little thing.  And who knows, maybe it was on its way back to its family too.

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