Bus Report #607

This morning I was running about ten minutes late for the bus, but I wasn't worried.
At Fillmore I waited for the bus by myself.
A wild-eyed man in a white and gold sweatshirt walked by. He tried to catch my eye, said, "Hey, gorgeous. You're a gorgeous girl. Smile for me, gorgeous." I didn't respond, burrowed further into my jacket, shoved my fists into my pockets.
He walked away.
The 22 was in sight up the block. It came zooming around a garbage truck that was idling at the curb.
It was my favorite early morning driver. He smiled and flung the door open and leaned out of his seat. "Good morning, darlin'," he said.
I smiled back. "Good morning to you, too, sir," I said.