Bus Report #714

On a stretch of Fillmore near my old apartment, someone is renovating a building with a large picture window facing the street. A couple of times recently I've seen a young man with dark hair, a mustache and a thin beard looking out the window, standing on a ladder or carrying cans of paint across the room.

The other day our #22 bus was idled at the light. I looked toward the window and there was the young man, standing in the middle of the room, in his grey jockeys, slowly stepping into a pair of pants.

He paused when he saw me (or the half-dozen other passengers equally riveted) watching him. Then he grinned and buttoned his jeans, and crossed the room out of sight.