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Bus Story: A Balanced Decision

March 4, 2015

In the bendy part of the articulated bus, there are four seats which pivot as the bus makes its way through the streets. Turning in a proscribed circle, the foursome are the maneuverable center of our massive, metal conveyance.  Today, there are only two inhabitants of these seats; one to each side. Opposite to each other physically and, as I look closely, in every way imaginable. 

She is petite, with sunshine in her long, blonde hair, with two tight braids encircling her head like a crown. She’s older than one would assume, with seasons in her bright eyes, and not a few lines on her face and hands. She’s dressed for the chill but for her rather dainty slipper-shoes, which sparkle in the morning light. 

He is darkness. All in black from head to toe, with obsidian boots able to withstand the heart of a volcano. A black knit cap is pulled down over his eyes, and a hooded coat, in the deepest shade of midnight, completes the look. His nose, chin, and mouth, are all that are visible; with a grim set to the last, above a small, trimmed ink-black goatee. 

He decides without seeing and carries the weight. She sees all and radiates hope.

Judgment and Mercy ride the 120. 

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From → Bus Stories

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