Bus Report #687

On the way home the other night, a little later than usual.
I was half a block away from the donut shop and as I always do, I slowed down and tried to peer in through the windows, just in case.
In case the alien donut man was there.

For the first time in a long time, almost two months, I think, he was there.

Sitting at his usual table, his coffee, his donut, his parka, his orthopedic shoes.

He chewed a mouthful of donut but nodded at me slowly, anyway.

I nodded back.