The bus is air conditioned but I can still smell the stench of people wanting desperately wanting to wash away the horrors of the work week. Everyone sits silently. I forget that not all buses are chaotic. A phone call from the NESF ends with all the other riders staring in my direction. They understood the language but miss the context entirely. Luckily for my sake the avenue appears clear and I may be able to make haste. Hopefully the woman next to me doesn't ask me to watch her son. She keeps giving me strange looks. We could have been lovers in another life. Maybe the child is mine.
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