On the bus

I’ve missed the bus. I slowly make the realization as it becomes half past ten and I find myself still stranded on the bus-stop, wondering how many minutes I shall be late today; how many leaps and jogs I’ll be forced to make instead of natural, balanced walking; how many times I shall run out of breath while chasing some vehicle or run out of patience while stuck in traffic or possibly even run out of money, more money as I …

She saves me from the self-destructive thoughts with her arrival. Sleeky yet rigid, she takes up her place by the big yellow sign, digging in her purse for the thick, dark book she’s been reading since two weeks. The obvious creases of her purple coat tell me her wardrobe’s condition is no better than mine. As usual, the tiny dust particles which have eagerly accumulated on her black, leather shoes are significant of the relatively long trip she makes on foot to get to the bus station from her home. Continue reading