Bus Report #798
Three men inhabited the benches in the stop, their granny carts and shopping carts flush against the etched glass wall.
They smelled ripe, as though they hadn't bathed in a while. I breathed through my mouth and hoped the bus would come soon.
The guys traded cigarettes, and then, after a quick glance at me, the man sitting closest to where I was standing held up a small vial of something and passed it to his friend.
The bus pulled up a moment later and I got on.