Bus Report #731

I left work a few minutes later than usual the other night, and when the bus arrived it was crowded, but helmed by my favorite driver, in his dark shades and his black cap.
"Hey, sweetheart," he said.
"Hey," I replied. "Nice to see you."
I worked my way to the back of the bus. The only open seat was next to a kid who was sprawled out on the double seat, dozing.
I sat down next to him and he  woke up, grudgingly moved his leg and scooted over a couple inches.
He turned his face to the window and dozed off again.
He'd had his elbow resting on the back of the seat and it still sort of was, except that his hand kept brushing my shoulder.
The bus emptied out at Mission. Half a dozen college kids got on. One of the girls wore a child's cat ear hat. Another girl perched on her girlfriend's lap.
In the front of the bus a woman sat with her puppy zipped into her jacket. Two little boys sitting near her kept pointing at the dog until their mother patted the empty seat next to her and the boys got up to sit nearer to their mom.
At Church and Market a young twenty-something Scottish man waited for the light to change. He wore a full kilt, sporran, high white socks, the whole thing. He carried a metal briefcase with a sticker of the Scottish flag stuck on the corner. He cracked a joke with a canvasser and laughed at their reply.

I know I wasn't the only person watching him until the lights changed and he crossed the street, and the bus moved on, to much less exciting scenery.