Unkowing Stranger, #13

It was 4:07 real time, and I had only ten minutes to get to the bus stop that was right outside the Sunshine Daycare. It should have been only a short walk from my apartment, but I seemed to be walking backwards as the blistering wind pounded upon my little body.
The snow poured down, blurring my vision as the flakes grasped onto the curls of my lashes. I was amazed at the ease at which a guide dog navigated a blind man through the snow covered ground and snow filled air. They passed me heading in the same direction, and I was inclined to grab onto the dog’s harness as the falling snow thickened.
However, I somehow managed to trudge through the snow and reach the bus stop on my own just in time. 4:15. I had two more minutes. I took the purple bag off of my shoulder, took out the journal, and quickly read through the notes about yesterday’s dove. Yup. This was right. The public bus would soon be coming from the south down Rouse Blvd. Now the only question that remained was who the mystery person would be today that I was suppose to help. Who was the unknowing stranger today? Who would be the 13th person? But I didn’t worry about not already knowing who the person was. For the previous 12 people, I didn’t realize who they were until the exact instance of occurrence. When I see them, I just know it's them. I know that that particular person is who I must help. It’s just an instinct. A gift. All I had to make sure I looked out for at the moment was the bus, which I soon heard rumbling up the hill from the right. I could barely see it through the pouring snow. 4:16. My heart pounded. The bus stopped right in front of me. The doors opened giving off that noise that sounded like a spit of air. The bus driver stared at me. I stared back and didn’t move.
“You getting on or what, little girl?” the bus driver said impatiently.
I just stood there. “Umm, Umm…” I had to stall, but I didn’t yet know who I was stalling for. I glanced down at my watch. 4:17. Deep breath. I anxiously looked the sidewalk up and down. No one. The bus driver looked at me angrily as he was getting behind schedule by waiting for me. He reached for the door lever to close the doors.
I put my foot in the way of the door. “You have to stay. Just one second. PLEEEEEASE! Someone really needs to catch this bus,” I said desperately to the impatient driver. There was only one way this was suppose to play out, and the bus was NOT suppose to leave YET. Then I heard her. I looked over my shoulder. The door to the Sunshine Daycare flew open, and a woman came running out with a baby in her arms tightly bundled beneath several layers and hollered at the bus. She looked so relieved as she quickly hopped onto the bus.
“I thought for sure I had already missed it,” she said frazzled and out of breath to the bus driver.” Thank you so much for waiting, Driver.”
“It sure wasn’t my idea to get behind schedule,” he grumpily said as he motioned towards me.
The doors closed, and I watched the bus drive away as the woman found her seat in the back. That woman had no idea how catching that bus just changed her entire life. But I knew. I knew everything. The dove’s flight pattern had told it all, and once again, I found myself in the right place at the right time. This was her fate. This was her destiny. And I only played a very small part in her very big plan. I felt a sense of nastalgia as the bus disappeared into the distance. I would probably never see that woman again, but that was what the picture was for. The picture of the dove was my way of remembering her and all the others.
That night I returned back to the roof top of Jupiter Apartments, carefully avoiding stepping on any of the many cockroaches scurrying up the stairs. The freezing cold was no excuse to miss releasing another dove. After all, I was dealing with fate. I had to learn the fate of another unknowing stranger. This time, number 14. As I released the dove and began to take notes on its flight pattern, the entire city went black. No lights- only the white of the falling snow, the red and violet sunset, and the shadow of the dove disappearing into the horizon.