The rain had no intention of stopping.
Maya stood beneath the tiny roof of an abandoned bus stop, hugging her backpack tightly against her chest. Her phone battery had died an hour earlier, and the last bus had long disappeared down the flooded road.
She sighed.
"Looks like we're both stranded."
The voice startled her. An elderly man stepped into the shelter, shaking rainwater from his umbrella. He wore a faded brown jacket and carried a worn leather notebook instead of a phone.
They exchanged polite smiles before silence settled between them.
After a while, the old man opened his notebook and began sketching the rain-soaked street. Curious, Maya leaned closer.
"You draw beautifully," she said.
He smiled. "I've been drawing for over fifty years. It keeps me company."
That simple sentence sparked a conversation neither of them expected.
Maya confessed that she had once loved drawing but abandoned it because she believed it wouldn't lead to a successful career. The old man listened patiently before showing her dozens of sketches that filled the notebook—markets, children playing, old buildings, and smiling strangers.
"These never made me rich," he said, "but they made my life meaningful."
His words stayed with her.
When the rain finally eased, the buses resumed, and it was time to leave. Maya thanked him for the conversation.
Just before boarding, he tore a page from his notebook and handed it to her. It was a quick sketch of the bus stop where they had met.
"Sometimes," he said, "the people we meet for a few minutes leave footprints that last a lifetime."
Maya never saw him again.
Years later, she became an illustrator. Framed above her desk was that simple sketch from a rainy afternoon—a reminder that life's greatest connections often arrive without warning, quietly changing our direction forever.
