The bus stop bench wore someone else's warmth. Maria sat down anyway, pulling her coat tighter against the December wind. Beside her, a man muttered into his phone—I'm not coming home, Carmen. I can't.
She looked away, studied the graffiti on the shelter wall. A heart with no names. Just the outline.
The man hung up. Silence stretched between them like a held breath.
"Do you believe," he said, not looking at her, "that some decisions unmake you?"
Maria thought of the unsigned divorce papers in her bag. Two months she'd carried them. Her lawyer had called three times this week.
"I think," she said slowly, "we're always unmaking ourselves. The question is what we're building instead."
He turned then. His eyes were the color of strong coffee, ringed with sleeplessness. "What if there's nothing to build with? What if you've used it all up?"
A bus approached, not hers. Its brakes wheezed like an old man's lungs.
"Then you start smaller," Maria said. "With whatever you can hold in your hands."
The bus doors opened. He didn't move. Neither did she.
"My wife wants a baby," he whispered. "I'm terrified I'll fail them both."
Maria reached into her bag, past the papers, and pulled out a pen. She took his hand—this strange man's hand—and wrote seven digits on his palm.
"That's my sister's number. She's a therapist. Tell her Maria sent you." She closed his fingers around the ink. "Being terrified means you care enough to try."
The bus pulled away. Another approached—hers this time.
She stood, leaving the papers on the bench. Unmade. Building.
"Thank you," he called as she boarded.
She didn't turn around, but she smiled. Through the window, she watched him study his palm like it held a map to somewhere he'd forgotten how to reach.
The bus lurched forward. She pressed her forehead to the cold glass and thought: tomorrow, I'll sign them. Or burn them. Or build something entirely new.
Outside, the man walked toward a payphone, his hand still clenched.
The unsigned papers fluttered on the empty bench, catching the last light of afternoon.
#flashfiction #Barcelona #decisions #strangers