Like everyFriday evening before this, Alfred found himself on the last bus to innerMontana where his parents lived. The journey took about thirty minutes and
there were barely any regulars on the late bus. Even the bus driver donned a
new face each time.
picked up from his stop, Alfred would shimmy into the unforgiving seats, slot
his earphones in and entertain himself by people watching. He liked to think
the late bus ran through an alternate dimension where the population consisted
only of sleepy travellers, their brains pickled with caffeine. And after
downing yet another sugar-free, salted caramel cappuccino with extra foam,
Alfred supposed he fit in with the drowsy bus world pretty well.
regular Alfred had encountered thus far was a stern-faced man. He’d
uninventively named the man ‘Brows’ on account of his desperately-in-need-of-plucking
eyebrows. Whether the over pronounced eyebrows were a personal choice or an
unfortunate genetic hand-me-down, Alfred didn’t know. He’d never spoke to
Brows; the man didn’t even get on the bus. Alfred would only pass by him as he
stood, impatient, at one of the bus-stops. He was always there, always waiting.
And so very cute.