Bus Report #604

On my way home, sitting next to a large woman in a robin's egg blue terry cloth track suit. She shifts in her seat, asks me if I'm all right. "Fine, thanks," I tell her.

In front of the Kilowatt, a former regular who I haven't seen in so many years I can't remember what his nickname is.

Back in the neighborhood the alien donut man sits perfectly still and upright in his usual seat in the donut shop. Seeing me, he lifts his hand in a delicate wave and dips his head ever so slightly.

I dash across the street to Haig's, where the proprietor says, "I was willing you to come in, I saw you running across the street and tried to steer you in here."
I grin and say, "Of course I was coming in here."
He sells me a tiny piece of feta cheese for 95 cents. I carry it, wrapped in paper, between my thumb and forefinger as I walk home.