Created: 2024-04-07 16:05 | Updated: 2024-04-16 04:09 | Source: mobile.iphone
Florence sat at the bus station waiting for her father to get off work.
She watched the usual travelers coming and going ans they headed off to their next point of transit or final destination. There were times when she could hardly see through the amount of people coming and going and other times It grew so quiet she could hear noises like the Kang of silverware in the dining room, or the printing of tickets at the counter, or the sweeping of the broom across the floor. It was during this quiet moment that she took a longer look around her to take notice of the bus station to look deeper into its corners and cracks to look so deep that it almost no longer felt like a bus station at all. It was during these times that she imagined it could be a train station or an airport in a busy city, like St. Louis or New York, London, or Paris. She imagined the travelers going back-and-forth were no longer speaking her local dialect of Southwestern English, but perhaps more sophisticated, London accent, and speaking English at all. Maybe they were on their way back to France or Tahiti or wherever.
“ The Midland bus will be leaving in five minutes. Please make your way to the bay.”
The announcement over the PA startled her and she jumped in her seat on the wooden bench. She looked around nervously in hopes that no one saw how startled she looked. As she looked around, she noticed someone had left something a bag right next to her. Or was it a purse? It was a tan bag, but it Looked more like a briefcase, but it wasn’t big enough to be a briefcase, and it had a shoulder strap. She stood up and looked around to see if anyone was making their way back to the spot where they left their bag.
One minute went by.
Five minutes went by.
10 minutes went by
20 minutes went by.
Flo! Flo? Hello?
She felt a tap on her shoulder and jumped immediately almost screaming in the spot
I didn’t mean to startle you, dear I was wondering where you were. You’re usually waiting for me outside the mill.
Oh daddy You scared me.
Well, what’s going on dear? Is everything OK?
Yes, yes yes I’m fine. It’s just someone left their bag and it’s Bothering me that they haven’t returned. Should we go look for them?
Questions:
At what point do they open the bag?
How is the photograph found?
Do they turn it into lost and found? At the bus station? Or the police station?
If no one claims the bag, how does Florence become the owner of the camera?
What’s on the photo?
How does the bag or the photo connect Florence to the rest of the story? Like the people she will meet around the world? The others who will write to her and send her their own photos and words?