Bus Report #572

Back home after a week away and everything feels the same.
I sleepwalked through my commute yesterday morning. My jacket and boots were unnecessary, it was too warm for them, but I wore them anyway. The boots, used to ice and snow, felt wrong against the dry concrete sidewalk.
The man sitting across from me on the 38 grinned at everyone who got on. He held a brown slice of apple in his left hand and occasionally took bites of it. His other hand controlled a metallic purple igadget.
At Fillmore I waited in my usual spot, alone. Everyone else had the day off, I supposed. Fillmore was silent and dark and the fog made everything look soft and out of focus. Dreamlike.
Then the bus arrived, the driver (my favorite 22 driver) pulled up right in front of me and threw the door open.
"Well hello there," he said, smiling his big smile.
"Nice to see you sir," I said.
And we're back.