Bus Report #686
Instead, by the time I got out of work and walked down the hill, it seemed back to normal, on time.
I slid in to an empty seat in the back of the 22 and a few stops later I got a seatmate, a tall, hefty guy with his long black hair in a pony tail. He wore black jeans and a black shirt streaked with grey and white. His face, arms and neck were bright red beneath his beard and thick arm hair, and he was breathing pretty hard - his mouth open. I thought he might have just run for the bus, or had spent the day outside.
He kept running his hands over his face and neck. I couldn't stop watching him.
Everything about him was red, or black, and he smelled like sawdust and sweat, and something dull and metallic. There was something repulsively pleasing about his scent - The words 'plumb' and 'tang' floated around in my mind.
I gulped it in.