"None of us is alone."

After a confidence-destroying day I was possibly one of the grumpiest people on the 6 bus down to Hyde Park. But because I hopped on at the route's first stop I had my pick of seats, which was enough to buoy my spirits. At least, until the crucial final stop before the bus begins its express run to 47th.

As any frequent public transportation rider knows, getting a seat to yourself on the express part of the bus route is winning the city living lottery. So I've got my bag next to me, I'm staring hard out the window, and holding my breath as the bus pulls up to the last local stop. And then I see him: raggedy pants that are really more a collection of holes than trousers, dirty hands, pulling a suitcase on wheels behind him. He's not on his way from or to an airport, this much is clear. Back to staring hard out the window, hoping to make the seat next to me disappear.

"Can I sit here?" 

"Of course." I move my bag to my lap. He smells, like cigarette smoke and dirt and being outside all day. He's wearing a baseball cap, but I think I recognize him as one of the panhandlers I see in the Loop, on LaSalle. Now the bus is rolling again and if I want to move I have to step over him. But the next stop isn't for another 15 minutes and moving at this point would obviously be only to avoid this man. I don't have the heart to do such a thing, so I sit and I stare out the window hard again, this time hoping to make the cigarette smell go away. 

Beep. He starts a timer on his watch, or at least I think this is what's happened because I'm still staring outside, now at Lake Michigan. It's around 4pm and the bus, while fairly full, is very quiet. Well, except for something that sounds like plastic pieces being fitted inside each other. 

He's solving a Rubik's cube, and doing so very, very fast. Beep. 

"How long did it take you to finish?" I ask him. Tears are pooling at the bottom of my eyes, I can feel it, but I'm just going to pretend they're not there. The things that made my day shitty are not going to win, I tell myself. 

"Four minutes and twenty seconds." 

"Is that good?"

"I've done it faster, under three minutes. But this is very good."

"I've always wanted to be able to solve a Rubik's cube." This is not a lie. "But I've tried, and I just can't."

"You can. Don't ever say can't. Can you count to three?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

"... One, two, three?"

"Ok, you can solve a Rubik's cube." He points to the three layers, and deliberately, slow enough so I can follow along, begins to solve the first layer. 

He goes on to tell me that I need to get the brand-name Rubik's cube because the others fall apart too easily. The one he's holding looks structurally sound though the colored stickers are definitely fraying. 

"How did you get started with this hobby?"

"I was ending up in jail a lot. So now I always have this cube with me and I solve it when I'm sitting on the bus or waiting, so that my mind doesn't wander and I don't get in trouble." He washes cars downtown for food money now. I don't ask where he lives (or doesn't live). 

"I was having a terrible day, but seeing you solve that puzzle really cheered me up." The truth again. 

"My day was going badly too. I wash cars, but today it was raining." It had been raining on and off since 7am, when I got on the bus to go downtown. It hadn't stopped much, and when it did it was only to reenergize and start up again, worse than before. I imagine he didn't have any luck getting anyone to pay for a car wash. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." 

"It's okay. My regulars helped out." He points to the wheeled suitcase I'd noticed earlier: "That's full of food. When I left this morning I didn't know if I'd have anything to eat, but it worked out. I have food and I owe car-washes to my regulars. I got everything I have today, I didn't take anything." 

The bus is now near the end of the express stretch. It slows down and eases off Lake Shore Drive.

"Thanks for telling me about your Rubik's cube. I was sad but seeing you so fully engrossed in solving it made me happy."

"Talking to you made me happy too. It reminded me that we, none of us, is alone."

And at the corner of 53rd and S. Hyde Park he gets off the bus.