Bus Report #730

I had a blast from the past the other day, in the grocery store of all places.
I chose a short line, just one person ahead of me. I wasn't really paying attention but there was something familiar about him.
He was dressed nicely, his hair gelled into place. When he turned in my direction and set his tote bag on the conveyor belt, I knew immediately who it was.
"Hey," I said, pinching his elbow. It was Ramon, my old friend from the 22, one of the first regulars I can remember writing about.
Ramon smiled. "Oh my god, Rachel! Hello! How ARE you?"
He handed the cashier some money and we hugged.
"I'm good," I said, "How have you been? It's been forever."
"Work is crazy," he said. I unloaded my basket onto the belt.
"But you're still here, so that's good," I said. I nodded at his oversize tote, with the name of his company emblazoned on it. I have the same bag, a gift from a long-ago Winter Market party at Ramon's showroom. "Same job?"
"Same job," he confirmed. "You?"
I nodded. "Same same," I said.
After finishing our shopping we stood out front the store for a few minutes, catching up some more, trying to figure out how long we've known each other.
I had to get back to work.
"See you soon, come by the showroom," Ramon said.
"Definitely," I said.
We hugged again and I trudged up the hill. I'd been wondering what Ramon was up to lately. It was nice to know he was still around.