Young Bus Driver Gives Every Passenger a Life Lesson—His Remarkable Actions Are Truly Admirable

Tonight I wandered through a peculiar, misty dream, where the streets of London stretched and curled like ribbons across rolling green. In this foggy reverie, I watched as a 25-year-old bus driver named Arthur guided his blue double-decker through winding lanes dotted with lamplight.
At a lonely bus stop, an elderly ladyher name was Mildred, no doubtclimbed aboard with a slow, careful step. I remember her hands, knotted and gentle, searching through an embroidered handkerchief where pound coins nestled like curious beetles. She counted out her fare, then with a smile soft as faded lace, asked Arthur if he could let her off at the next stop near the little corner shop.
Arthur nodded, slowing the bus until the city lights seemed to flicker in agreement. Mildred stretched out her hand with the fare and whispered, Thank you, my dear boy.
But Arthur shook his head and did not take the coins. Instead, he peered into his battered wallet, announced hed be just a moment, and vanished as suddenly as a cloud swallowed by the Thames mist. He darted into the shop, and reappeared moments later holding four pints of milk, a loaf of crusty bread, a packet of pasta, a joint of beef, and a tub of clotted cream.
He pressed the bag into Mildred’s arms. She protested with all the gentle stubbornness of her years, It isnt necessary, love. My pension is enough for bread and bits and bobs.
But Arthur replied, If you dont accept it, Ill leave it on the curb.
Tears welled in Mildreds eyes as she gathered the parcels, muffled gratitude tumbling out in whispers. She wished him luck in every field and meadow, then hobbled from the bus into the night, carrying her shopping like a strange blessing.
Then, from the shadows of a seat, a woman in her fortiesher name might have been Janetremarked sharply, Was it really worth spending your money and making us late just to be thanked?
Arthurs face turned to the strange orange glow of the streetlights, stern but kind. He leaned forward, pressed a button, and the doors sucked open with a sigh. Turning to Janet, he declared, Its people like you who make the old folk think the young are all selfish and badly raisedsince all you teach them is greed and insincerity.
Janet blushed the colour of an over-ripe tomato as she stepped into the dream-lit street.
The bus rolled on, Arthur at the helm, a faint smile playing at his lips, as if somewherebetween the quiet of midnight and the chime of distant church bellsthe world had become a little softer, and a little more impossible.