A Stranger in the Snow

When she was 20 years old, she used to go to the Library three or four times a week and ride the bus home afterward. One Sunday, she missed her usual bus, which meant a longer wait for the next one.

Her parents were out for the evening, and calling them wasn’t an option. Taxis charged too much, so she sat and waited in the bus shelter. The night was cold, and snow had just started to fall, lightly dusting the ground. As the bus took longer than usual, she pulled out her phone and began listening to music.

Nearly an hour later, the cold was biting and she hadn’t seen a single soul. That was until she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye—a man, dressed in thick layers, slowly walking toward the shelter.

In order not to draw attention, she kept focusing on her phone, pretending not to notice. The man sat down at the other end of the shelter and stared at her. Something about him seemed off. He appeared either drunk or under the influence of something. After a moment, he broke the silence, asking, "When is the bus due?"

She removed her earphones and replied, "I think it’s delayed because of the snow." He stared at her for a moment longer, then began mumbling to himself. The uneasy feeling in her gut grew stronger, so she pretended to stay absorbed in her phone. After a few minutes, she glanced over—he had moved closer.

Her heart raced as she quickly averted her gaze, only to hear the sound of him sliding even closer. She turned toward him and asked, "You okay there?" He stared back with glazed eyes, lifted his arm, and leaned toward her.

Instinct kicked in. She grabbed her bag and bolted out of the shelter as the man fell. She ran as fast as she could, not daring to look back until she reached the next bus stop. Gasping for breath, she finally stopped and glanced behind her. He was gone. Relieved, she sat and rested her head against the cold glass, waiting for her bus.

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the glass behind her. She jumped and turned around—he was there again, staring at her through the glass.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled. The man began circling the shelter, coming toward her. Panic surged through her. "I'm warning you! Stay. Back." She backed away, her voice trembling. She wanted to run, but her bag was still in the shelter. She couldn't leave without it.

Without warning, the man lunged at her. She swiftly dodged, and he crashed face-first into the ground. Frozen in shock, she noticed blood dripping from his face. She tried to get him to respond, but he didn’t move. Frantically, she called the police and paramedics.

When they arrived, she recounted the night's terrifying events. It turned out the man was on prescription drugs. They found a photo in his wallet—a picture of him with his son. The boy bore a striking resemblance to her, and they assumed the man mistook her for him. He had lost custody of his son and spiraled into a breakdown.

The paramedics took him away for treatment, and that was the last time she saw him. Not long after, she got her driver’s license and never stepped onto a bus again.