At the Bus Stop 12/12

 Looking at the stop from across the street, I see he has arrived first: the young smoker in the brown hoodie. At least I can position myself upwind.

Next is the bicycling husband, escorting his wife (I assume) to the bus stop; every day he comes with her and waits until the bus arrives. I am impressed.

Up walks a young woman with Jheri curls and mod boots, followed by one who stands at a distance from the stop, phone attached to her ear.

As we wait in a light mist, our eyes gazing hopefully down the street, the cross street bus comes, delivering a couple of riders.

In a few moments, our bus arrives, the escorting bicyclist leaves, and we board the coach, off to our sundry destinations.

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(C) Laura Springer

Laura's Writings by Laura Springer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 United States License.