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A Bus Journey


The bus finally rounds the corner and pulls up in front of you.  The doors open.  A mother’s pushchair rolls over your foot as you fumble in your bag.  Of course, it had started to rain as you were waiting so there is a horrid damp smell and the bus floor is wet.  The plump and whiskered driver looks at you unsympathetically through the smudge-covered glass as you dig in your purse for the correct change.   A fountain of pennies cascade onto the floor and all promptly manage to hide from view.  Your ears start to blaze but still you shiver; it is a quiet protest to the typical British weather.  When you finally pay your fare you make your way slowly, slipping, to a spare seat at the back, certain that all eyes are on you.

You flop down onto a suspicious-looking leather seat and lean your head against the steamed-up window.  The bus hisses into life and your head hits the glass.  Moaning, monotonous music drifts over from the adjacent isle.  Looking over you see a scruffy student with ear-phones, glasses and a hat you were sure were only popular in the 60’s.  However he is quickly obscured from view as a hooded youth huffs down next to you.  Smoke fills your nostrils.  You try to turn away but your foot refuses to move.  Gum.  Well that’s just great.

At last, you start to recognize things through the window.  You move to the edge of your seat; a subtle signal to your neighbour that you’ll soon need to get out.  It doesn’t work.   He slurps his chewing gum unattractively as you lean over to ring the bell.  Your hands are clammy as you get out of your seat.   The chav swivels his legs round into the isle to let you out.  You mutter a thanks and grip tightly to the headrest as you stumble past, all eyes on you once more.  Will she fall?  You can almost hear their anticipation as you alternate between poles, gradually moving towards the door.  Why did I choose a seat so far back?”  You ponder in exasperation.  The bus stops.  You slip forwards.  A man grabs your arm before you can fall to your humiliation.  “Thank you,” you say shakily as the sliding doors skate open.  Cold air whips your face.  You take a deep breath.  It’s over.  You survived.

This was for my English coursework but, yeah, this is how bus journeys are for me!  ~ Effy x