You step onto the bus, find your way toward an empty seat in the back, look toward the floor and notice the new smudge on your shoe, open your bag, careful not to bump into the shoulder of your neighboring passenger, retrieve your newspaper, fold the paper in half, read the articles, no matter whether the words interest you or whether you read these same pages hours earlier, and continue on your way.You nodded to the busdriver but continued on your way. You don't know why this man drives a bus, if he escapes work to a house with wife and children or an untouched apartment, if he reads, who he rooted for in the last World Series, if he has ever been to Europe, or what his friends call him when they're playing poker Friday night.

You step off the bus and toward your doorstep, anticipate the moment you can take off your shoes and sweaty socks, pour yourself a glass of water, sink into the couch as the television urges you to call Verizon for your cell phone needs, and continue on your way. You glanced at the woman with two young children at her ankles but continued on your way. You don't know whether she's taking her children to the grocery store or to a friend's house or to their father's new home, if her kids say "please" and "thank you" or "now!" and "Damn it!", how her life compares to the dreams she had as a child, when the last time was that she saw her mother, if she is a vegetarian, or what she would do if she had a month free from her daily life.

You get off the couch and go with your friends at one of those restaurants that serves baby back ribs and beer, complaining to your friends about a busy day and rapping with the latest Nelly single during the drive. You exit the 1994 Ford Escort and continue on your way. You stared at the gorgeous blonde standing alone out front while constantly checking her watch but continued on your way. You don't know if she waits for four girlfriends or her boyfriend of three years, what her young aspirations are in school, if she has ever gone bungee jumping in Seattle, how frequently she goes to church, if she ever got into big shouting matches with her younger brother, whether she will order the tossed salad or the medium well burger, or how many people have told her they loved her.

You laugh with tears at the details of your buddy's latest adventure, and when the waitress approaches to take your orders, you explain that you want the baby back ribs and a Corona, await the rest of your friend's story, and continue on your way. You briefly made eye contact with your waitress but continued on your way. You don't know whether she is a student close to her financing degree or a single mom struggling to afford that barbie jeep her daughter wants, if she is a natural redhead, what she would eat if she had her choice of anything on that menu she memorized long ago, if she loves hot showers or warm bubble baths, why she spent that night in jail, if she chases her dog in the backyard, what her last name is, how content she finds her surroundings.

And you continue on your way.