I wait for the 52 bus. It’s late. It’s always is. I sit back on the bench at the stop at 43rd and Elmwood.
Four others wait with me. We don’t talk. Strangers by choice. I suppose. I look at the watch again. 5:44. Five minutes late.
I look at phone. I should call, but say what the bus is late again. I need a car.
But maybe, if I ran the bus it would be better. Yeah, I could cruise up and down the street, taking people here and there.
Everyday, we wait. It would be cool. I’d have everyone rocking with tunes. It would be the magic bus. This would work. I wonder how much it would be.
Oh wait, it coming. About time.
Written for a challenge called Sunday Photo Fiction, https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2016/03/27/sunday-photo-fiction-march-27th-2016/