The Bus Stop

The old bus pulled into the gravel driveway of the bus station in some desolate town. A set of blue high heels attached to a pair of thin, long legs stepped out. Dust kicked up and wrapped itself around her, begging to go up further into her summer dress as the wind lifted it up slightly. It was hot already. Sweat was pearling on her brow and running down her neck, dampening her loose hairs.

As the bus pulled away, she turned to see her trunk turned upright in a cloud of dirt. She rolled her eyes, let out a breath and wiped her brow. It would not be easy trying to move it on her own. She looked in desperation for anyone to help her, but saw no one. Slowly, she scuffed over to the large box containing all of what was left now. She grabbed hold of one the large handle, sweat making it almost impossible to keep hold of, and dragged the trunk towards the steps of the bus station.

Somehow she managed to make it up the three small steps, heaving with each pull. As soon as she had the trunk all the way up, she let out a sigh of exhaustion. She crossed her arms and laid her head on it to rest for a second. She could not pull it all the way inside. It was blocking the entrance on one side. After some consideration, she decided to just leave it standing there. There was hardly a soul around. Surely it would not be a problem. And by this time she didn’t really care.

She opened the screen door and walked into the station. At least it was cooler inside. She looked around. It was basically like every other bus stop. It was mostly clean, but there was some dirt building up in the corners. The flooring was old wood, slightly cracked, and it made that comforting, light, creaking noise under her feet when she walked. The walls were made of pale, teal green tiles. There was the obligatory machines for snacks and drinks. And there was the typical, smelly, drunk asleep on a bench. She found it calming.

She sat for awhile on a bench, feeling it’s smooth surface under her fingers, while listening to the hypnotic turning of the fans above her. She closed her eyes and for a minute, began to feel comfortable in this place. Her mind began picturing her just staying there. She could work at the quaint little diner across the street. She could rent a small apartment and make friends with a few locals, but still keep to herself. It would be nice. But in her heart, she knew she would leave. She already had her ticket.

Somehow it made her sad to think she would only have those few hours here. She felt as though she was betraying this little bus stop, and herself, knowing that she would not settle here, but move on. All that would be left of her presence, would be some rubbish in the bin, a few hairs, and her scent. Memories that would fade before her own were forgotten.

She could hear the bus arrive well before she saw it. She gradually rose and lingered to the door. The bus driver packed her trunk as she took one last look at the station. Her palm slipped slowly away from the door, as if she was trying in vain to leave a marking of her soul. She stepped into the bus and found a seat next to a window. She watched as the station became smaller and smaller. She knew then, that she would never be back there, and as time went on, she’d forget all about it.