I’m on time.
Tearing my ticket from the machine, I lurch forward four or five steps as the bus driver speeds away. Leafy limbs of passing trees whip against the windows as I slump into my seat at the back.
Two stops later, the bus is dead. The mystified Bus Driver shrugs defensively. “Everybody off!”
I check my watch seventeen times as I peer into the distance of the long, lifeless road, backed by a chorus of grumbling old-age pensioners and chattering birds.
“It’ll make a good start to a story one day,” I tell myself. Or maybe not.
(Image courtesy of Riva Ferdian)