Non-fiction. Coffee & Bun

Coffee & Bun
During the time I spent in college I became familiar with a little old lady dressed entirely in black, even down to black wool stockings she wore summer and winter. A black hat perched on the top of her neatly gathered grey hair, styled into a bun at the back of her head. She carried a large black bag, the handles so long the bag nearly touched the ground.
I travelled to school by train from the country to the city every morning, this conspicuous figure would be waiting on the platform as my 8.30 am. train pulled into the station.
Her deep blue eyes were always swollen and red, probably from hours of crying, a quiver of emotion showed in the corners of her mouth. Stretching as much as her petite little body would allow she peered into each carriage as it slowly passed, her eager eyes darting back and forth examining every window.
Every time I saw her I seem to have an emotional and sorrowful reaction, which lasted for ages, I wondered why this lonely lady met the train each morning.
Starting to ask around people in shops, acquaintances on the streets and school friends there were many different answers to my questions. I did discover from the lady in the snack bar at the station that she arrived every morning at 8 am. and ordered a big railway cup of coffee and a currant bun, as soon as she heard the whistle of the train approaching she would jump up and hurry straight to the platform.
Sometimes as I walked the streets during lunchtime I would see her go by slowly , some people were very cruel to her, crying out abuse like “ what a silly old woman you are”, and “ what’s with the black stockings?” or “ here comes coffee and bun”
This really made me angry and there were times when I spoke out to defend this dear old lady but only got a mouthful of abuse and told, “ Why don’t you go and join her”
As the years went by, I had left college and working in a small town. While visiting my grandparents in the city I happened to glance through the local newspaper, an article caught my eye. “ Coffee and Bun found dead, curled up on a park bench” immediately I had a flash back to my college days, I eagerly read the article.
Apparently her fiancé was killed in action during the Second World War, they had been planning to marry as soon as the war was over, sadly the reaction of hearing about his death was such a shock she just never recovered and would not believe that he had been killed, that’s why every day she went to the station expecting him to hop off the train.
In my eyes and the way she dressed I always thought she was an old woman but her age was stated as 45. She lived with her widowed mother but spent most of her days roaming the streets thinking maybe she had missed him at the station.
She seemed to be a legend around the city, not many people hadn’t heard of “Coffee and Bun” but no one ever new what her real name was, a friend once told me she was completely deaf which was a comfort knowing she never heard any of the abusive things people would say to her. In conclusion of this sad story my thoughts would be that she died of a broken heart.

Word Count 598