scanning about me, looking for any unfriendly faces Iguess. To be honest, she wasn’t even that different fromthe rest of us. There was something about her that nabbedat my curiosity. I couldn’t, for the life of me, place it. Uponfirst seeing her, my mind, naturally, jumped to aconclusion:She was running away.From what?From whom?
You’re reading too much into it,
I told myself.
But doesn’t everyone use that excuse nowadays?
The bus reached a stop - mine - and the doors hissedopen. Some passengers stood and made their way towardsthe exit.Normally I would have gotten up with the rest of themand already be on my way, but my attention returned tothe woman, the mystery about her captivated me.I glanced at the map along the side of the hull. It showedthis bus’s stops and the approximate hours of the day itwould arrive at each. This bus would be heading to itsfinal stop as soon as I stepped off and the doors closedbehind me.The train station.
She might be riding the bus to just kill some time.
I should have gotten off the bus. I was supposed to behitting up the bistro with Devon, my partner. We hadplanned a night of good food, good wine, and good times,but my curiosity got the best of me. No new passengerscame on and the door hissed again, closing. The drivertook off the brakes and shifted into gear and we were off.As the bus eased its way up to match the speed ofpassing traffic something out on the sidewalk drew mygaze.A woman was running, tears streaking her face. She