The Bus

The bus is late.. again, late another day. It is raining, large droplets .. fat droplets filled with water cascading on me… at night…

The electric notification board says bus on time

The watch says 8:17

The digital watch in front of the Blueberry Inn; a Victorian B & B .. blue and red, says 8:17

I am standing between 101 and 99 Military Rd, a space that is occupied by a glass metro bus shelter.. a generic one seen in any city to protect  the passengers from the elements of the weather. A bit cold inside, chilly, wind running among the dark hairs on my hand..

Still waiting for the white monster equipped with blue stiff chairs, white lights, inner neon lights, advertisements about sexually transmitted diseases and the free wi-fi. Waiting for that monster to swallow me and deposit me at point B

The schedule says 8:15

120 seconds later

Tick …. tock…. tick…tock

130 seconds

Still no monster coming up the street

Should I panic, should I leave, start walking, pick up the black bag,,, my loose papers and walk under the cascading rain??

I take a step outside,,, just one step, one step for me against the golaith of the weather

One breath at a time… a prayer under my breath .. a prayer escaping my lips

Pls let me be safe

Out of nowhere the monster shows up… the bus kneels down.. the glass door opens… i walk up the slide.. pass the card against the scanner

30 days left flashes on the monitor

Sorry for the delay utters the clean shaven driver.. he reminds me of Yul Brenner ,, that actor who was the King of Siam.. yes the baldie

I walk down the aisle.. no I am no bride nor groom.. this is not a church.. just a whale that swallows passengers and delivers them into a designated stop

I find a vacant spot.. next to me is an old lady.. her name is Marilyn, chopped blond hair.. looks in her mid 60s.. legend says she lost her 3 children in a fire 30 years ago and then she was sent to the Waterford for psychiatric evaluation.. she was a beauty back in the days.. blond hair down to her waist.. a few men proposed to her after the tragedy.. she refused, them all.. her hair in a bun… streaked with grey..pink boots and a suitcase she carries everywhere even on the bus. smiles at me.. a toothless smile .. i try to smile.. i look away

Another girl in a pink cashmere jumper..a starched white shirt…a delicate silver necklace..with a toy dinosaur dangling from it.. a toy.. a chewable toy.. as a piece of jewelery ..she smiles…warm…sunshine in the middle of the night.. i stare.. a little bit too long.. a second longer than the norm.. a deeper glance .. the act of coveting…pinch my thigh…

Tries to focus on the book..on the pages…on those letters typed on those dead trees,, and my eyes would still go and stare into the pink sweater.. a cognitive overload.. the world is pink around me.. a bubble of baby pink..chewing gum pink…will it burst and cover me in pink slime?

Someone pulls the bell…STOP REQUESTED in red … EXIT from Rear appears

She walks up to the rear of the bus… waves her hand in front of the door.. the door opens.. a cold breeze invades the stillness

I look for one last time at her … Thanks she said

one word

Thanks

the door closes behind her

A shadow goes into the darkness of the night

and I read the book.. i see the letters.. i am alive

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4 thoughts on “The Bus

  1. Noor says:

    I didn’t realize how much I missed your long posts till I read this. I love your train of thought and how you pay attention to little things and make something out of them, thats seriously original.
    Love how you end it.
    Encore, baldie.

  2. Rana says:

    You just make me jelous that you can write and i dont 😛
    i am so in love with this.. You know how much i love your posts.. keep it up dear.

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