He stood in the glass bus shelter, coat collar up, shoulders haunched. He lifted them higher whenever a gust of wind assaulted him. After a few minutes his shoulders remained just below his ears. He glanced at the bus schedule but rapidly looked away. In over fifteen years of taking buses these schedules had been an insult. He’d hurried to meet that schedule only to be let down every single time. When he saw these schedules he could only think that someone was being paid more money than he was to create and update them. For what. If he was late five minutes, if he had the temerity of letting a typo get by him, if… he needed to find another job.
A car came to a stop in front of him as it waited for a green light. The driver had his mobile phone in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. He was leaning against the driver-side window, talking away, gesticulating with the coffee cup. The driver didn’t have a coat on.
The car sped away as he pressed his chin to his chest. Ten years ago he might have willed the bus to arrive sooner. Now he just waited. He went through a list of things for which he was grateful. He was able to stand as he waited. He had enough money to take the bus. He waited.