Bus Report #801
Tonight, on the way home from a downtown meeting, on the 38L around 8 pm.
At Union Square a man got on the bus and threw himself down onto the seat beside me, without even looking in my direction. He shrugged off his backpack and the bag slipped from his shoulder practically onto my lap. No acknowledgement.
A moment later he took a book from his bag. The title of the book? Assholes, A Theory.
Later, our bus pulled in beside a 38 regular in the Van Ness stop. I glanced over at the other bus.
Sitting in the seat directly opposite where I was sitting there was a handsome, handsome man.
He turned slightly, caught my eye, and we both smiled.
It was Sameer, the Handsome South Asian Chef. His hair longer, his face paler, a neatly trimmed mustache where he used to be clean shaven.
Hello Sameer, my old friend.
I laughed and waved at him through the window, and his bus took off up the hill.
At Union Square a man got on the bus and threw himself down onto the seat beside me, without even looking in my direction. He shrugged off his backpack and the bag slipped from his shoulder practically onto my lap. No acknowledgement.
A moment later he took a book from his bag. The title of the book? Assholes, A Theory.
Later, our bus pulled in beside a 38 regular in the Van Ness stop. I glanced over at the other bus.
Sitting in the seat directly opposite where I was sitting there was a handsome, handsome man.
He turned slightly, caught my eye, and we both smiled.
It was Sameer, the Handsome South Asian Chef. His hair longer, his face paler, a neatly trimmed mustache where he used to be clean shaven.
Hello Sameer, my old friend.
I laughed and waved at him through the window, and his bus took off up the hill.
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