On the bus, an elderly woman kept eyeing the young man in a white T-shirt, staring at the tattoos on his arms. Then she turned sharply toward the window, muttering under her breath.
The guy in headphones seemed completely detached — the music drowned out the world, and he didn’t even notice the looks. But at last, the old woman couldn’t hold back:
“What kind of youth do we have now?” she blurted loudly. “Why draw all this devilry on your body?”
The young man removed one earbud and asked politely:
– Grandma, is something wrong?
– “What’s wrong?” she mocked. “With a body like that, you’ll never see heaven! It’s a mortal sin! Awful! How can the earth endure people like you?”
– I haven’t done anything wrong to you, he replied calmly. This is my body, and I have the right to do what I want with it.
But his calmness only fueled her fury.
– Ugh! In my day, young people never dared speak back to elders! she raised her voice.
– Because of people like you, the country has fallen apart! Painted like devils! Let your parents see you—what a disgrace! With those pictures, no decent wife will ever marry you. God will punish you! You’ll wander the world until you repent of your heavy sins!
She shook her head, crossed herself, and added fiercely:
– May your hands wither if you ruin your body again! May your soul blacken with every stroke!
The young man only sighed and turned back toward the window. The bus rattled on. But the woman wasn’t finished:
– My blood pressure’s rising because of you, shameless boy! Thank God I don’t have children like you. You’re a disgrace to youth!
Then, suddenly—her face turned pale. She clutched her chest, gasping for air.
– “Oh… I feel… bad… it’s so stuffy…” she whispered weakly.
The passengers looked away, pretending not to hear. Not a single person moved.
Except for the tattooed guy. He slipped off his headphones, rose from his seat, and said quietly but firmly:
– Grandma… I’m a paramedic.
The bus fell silent. Even time seemed to stop.
The young man rushed to her side. With practiced calm, he removed her thick scarf, unbuttoned her sweater, and helped her breathe more easily.
– “Don’t panic… breathe slowly… you’ll be fine,” he said gently, nothing like the “rude boy” she had accused him of being.
He checked her pulse, supported her shoulders, then quickly pulled out his phone.
– “She’s having a severe spasm, her blood pressure is spiking,” he told the driver. Dialing emergency services, he spoke with clarity and precision: the address, the bus route, the woman’s condition.
– Hold on, Grandma, the doctors are on their way, he assured her softly. I’m right here with you. Everything will be fine.
Her eyes fluttered open. Pale and weak, she looked at him with surprise—almost shame. For a moment she seemed as if she wanted to speak, but had no strength. She only managed a faint nod.
