I got on the bus and noticed a girl looking at me. With the warmest smiles, she rose and 1 into the aisle, offering her seat to me politely and respectably. I was wrong-footed, then conflicted. '"No," I 2 silently, holding back a laugh from within, "I come from a 3 where I do that for you." I realized immediately what a 4 place that was.
Speech failed me; I burnt with 5. Later, I reflected that this was an act of 6. I bowed in recognition, 7 felt I bowed with shame. I am fit, able, strong. In my head, I am 8. She shocked me by making me so acutely aware of my 9 years.
To accept the seat was to accept that 10 status—elderly, needy, requiring care— a status I was not yet 11 to acquire. To decline was to 12 an act of generosity. To turn a blind eye was to appear 13 and impolite. To explain, on a 14 bus, was impossible.
The 15 situations was played out before the other passengers. What if, once I was seated, an older person 16 and no one offered a seat? Should I remain seated and burn with shame, or stand and 17 my newly received gift —a slap in the face for the kind and caring girl?
18 I took the seat, smiled and 19 my head on to my chest. The bus came to a stop. I got up, walked slowly, 20 and noisily down the aisle and out into the rain.
