Evening afoot
she waits at the stop.
Mind elsewhere,
on her day, or
merely tired, distant.
Boarding the empty bus,
relieved for warmth, quiet.
Town’s edge – but
what is happening?
Where are you going?
She demands,
nearly screaming now,
You should have turned back there!
The bus lurches down a long hill
tall trees either side.
Sick in her throat
countryside engulfs the road
taking them out of town.
This is the number 26
replies the driver,
slightly annoyed, or
perhaps alarmed.
Let me out.
Let. Me. Out. Now!
Stop!
I can’t stop between st –
STOP!
He brakes hard
in anger or shock.
She doesn’t care which.
She scrambles, half-falling
down the steps.
Her feet reach the kerb
as the bus accelerates
away into the dark.
Leaving her alone, trembling
in the fast-rising twilight.
She runs, gasping, sobbing
back up the hill, now
towards the lights of town.
Away from the bus. From him.
And from her triggered mind.
Photo by Ant Rozetsky on Unsplash
