Every day there is a woman who balances on the edge of the first seat of the bus, getting off around two or three stops after I get on. She has short hair which is frayed and silvery. Her body is more round than the average Pole, and she always wears a skirt with a gray sweater, and her veins stand out clearly on her pale legs. A couple of days ago the bus driver applied a bit too much force [on the brake pedal] a bit too quickly. She tumbled out of her seat with a thud and cracked her head against the door of the glass enclosure around the driver. No one offered to help; no one asked her if she was okay. We PCVs stood watching, remembering that Chrissy told us that it is often better not to get involved. A bit ironic, for it is too late for us not to get involved . . .