Bus Report #674
The floor of the 22 littered with sunflower seeds that crunched beneath my sneakers.
A public service announcement poster I haven't seen in a while, warning about the theft of electronic devices on the bus - "Ladrones, Aprovechen!"
The little guy with the sports jacket, ball cap and tennis shoes - now he's got a pair of faux-Uggs and a ladie's jacket - and I have to say he looks happier, and the clothes really suit him.
The eighties lady - Neon orange and blue parka, her black high top Reeboks, faded old tapered jeans, too much makeup.
Mr. Fantastic - A subdued look for a Monday. Tan trench coat over grey jeans rolled up to mid-calf. Long, pointy wingtips. His trusty neon yellow wristlet, of course, and his Clark Kents. Scorching.
The grinning, lazy-lidded man who sat across from me on the 2 the other night. He reminded me of a classmate, and I realized it was his glasses more than anything else, that felt familiar. The conversation we had, silently, with just our eyes. He was ready to get home, too.
The woman on the crowded 2 Clement the other night, who pointed out the gorgeous sunset just after we'd bitched about the slow commute.