After leaving Abbott's after a nice dinner and thoughts provoked I walked and rode the bus.
A man approached me. I assumed he was just going the other way and with my headphones on I don't know if he said anything to me. He stopped so I stopped. He asked for a quarter, I gave him three. He said, "Thank you, sir" and I felt sad as I briskly walked away to cross the street.
In front of the firehouse on Webster St. I passed by a normal man who looked at me at the precise moment I was licking my lips, something I rarely do.
On the bus after the driver almost failed to stop for me, I saw a man, a jittery man who was still wearing his sunglasses.
Another jittery woman sat in running attire and I wondered why she was taking the bus when clearly she was out for a jog.
A woman in front of me wore a wonderfully made sweater and I hoped it was homemade but doubted it was.
Three young people got on the bus. The guy was holding an Arnold Palmer iced tea in a container that people question if it is beer or not.
The girls sat across from each other, while laughing and wearing clothes that are only accepted because they are ironic and ironic is cool when you are in you early twenties and dress as if you had just graduated kindergarten. Before their stop one girl hoisted herself up while pulling on the cable to signal the bus to stop. She swung on it like it was the jungle gym. Maybe her clothes weren't the only thing to signal she was missing her youth.
A doppelganger of mine got on the bus and madly swung into his seat as I had only four minutes earlier.
Four boys sat in the back of the bus, skateboards in hand, and I wondered why they weren't skateboarding.
Just before I made it home I saw a woman in a car.