It’s been a crazy busy week for us looking at houses and making some big decisions. I didn’t want to be a day late like I was on Magic Monday. I quickly cranked out the start of a prompt. It’s a rough first draft. I can definitely finish part II for next Friday. Let me know what you think…..
Jess was immersed in a cheap paperback for most of the bus ride home. She was trying to avoid the fact that the darkness make her a bit uncomfortable on the mostly empty bus. She usually didn’t take the bus so late at night, but an unusually long night at the lab impeded on her normal quiet evening at home. To boot, her clunker of a car in the shop forced her to endure the slow ride home on the bus.
She glanced up as the bus came to a stop and a few passengers meandered onto the street. A quick look behind her revealed two other passengers. A kid was fiddling with his phone, probably just as nervous as she was. The other was an elderly man, glaring at her from behind his thick bifocals. His face was grim. His eyes, which should have been drooped with sorrow or mildness, were darkly observing her. He did not look away when she peeked at him. His bleak expression showed no change.
Turning back to her book, Jess became uneasy. She stared at the pages, but the words became blurry. She started counting the blocks until her stop. Two more stops and her apartment building was right on the corner. She started to wonder if she should even get off at her stop should he decide to follow her home.
A harmless crazy old man, she thought. I’m just being silly.
She was jolted from her thoughts when the bus stopped and the kid hopped out at his stop. The next stop was hers. She sighed from relief, but she still had an eerily feeling about the man at the back of the bus.
Ducking behind her seat, she peered over the top to see the elderly man still glowering in her direction. He hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. For a moment, their eyes met again. There was no expression in his black eyes. She spun around and shrunk down into her seat.
Gripping her bag and her book with white knuckles, she was panicked. She wondered if she mentioned anything to the driver, he might wait at the stop until she made the few steps to her building’s front door. She thought wiser of the fleeting idea. The driver was clearly unconcernedfor his passengers. He yawned as he rubbed his sleepy eyes, then watched the traffic ahead indifferently as he slowly bobbed to the rhythm of the rocking bus.