It’s cold. I can tell by the clouds that I breathe
out. I wonder how much longer it’ll take spring to arrive. Probably not as long
as it takes my stupid bus to arrive. I feel like I’ve been waiting for an hour.
It’s probably been about ten minutes. The two sixty-one takes me home. It’ll
take around twenty minutes. Twenty minutes before I can wash up and get back to
work.
I’m sitting in a single seat
near the rear door. My left elbow is awkwardly resting on the too-high window
rim. I probably look like an idiot, but I don’t care. It’s comfortable. It’s
slowly getting darker outside. The brightly lit displays of the lamp stores
along Jongno are starting to make sense. I wonder how much they pay for
electricity each month.
Gramatik is playing his instrumentals as the driver
shouts something at the man who just got on the bus. He’s old. I wonder why the
driver must be so rude. The man bows and takes a seat. I quickly lose interest and
focus on the world that passes by my window, from the luxury stores in
Myung-dong to the homeless shads at Seoul Station. Soon I get off and I’m finally
home.
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