You are waiting at a bus stop.
Within the small enclosure, a hand-written schedule is inked upon glass. It isn’t promising. Buses seem to only arrive every other day, and the most recent came yesterday.
What, then, to do.
One option, of course, is to keep on this strange quest. Chasing after a stranger you don’t know to save someone you’ve hardly met … a chase put in motion because, what, you were feeling restless with the world around you? And who doesn’t feel restless, and what makes you special. It is interesting, though how restlessness in one setting leads to calm in others. Here you might just wait calmly. See what the next step brings. It’s better, after all, than that world you’ve left behind; why go back there, this definitely has more potential. Plus this might somehow mean more. At least it helps pass the time, like any good story should. So fine, sit down, settle back, and wait.
Or reflect once more on your childhood. That strange comet eye in the sky. What if was an actual eye, in an actual face? What if you could go back and find a way to travel up there, see for yourself who is on high, looking down?
Or maybe music and memories are mere distraction. Maybe it’s better to find your center: do a breathing exercise. Open up the app on your phone, the one that plays the sound of winds sighing across the desert, and begin the work of emptying yourself.
As you consider yet other options, you notice, jammed into the bus stop’s aluminum siding, a folded bit of yellowed paper. You work it carefully free, not wanting cause any damage. It’s a small sheet from a notebook, much like other notes you’ve seen of late. What good has reading notes left by others ever done for anyone? None, you’re pretty damn sure at this point, so you wedge the note back behind the metal … or can you just not help yourself from opening it up?
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