Bus Stop - A Short Story
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- Votes 19
- Parts 1
Every day the bus came by the exact time. 7:14 am. It was always the same. It reminded me that things will never change. Things stayed the same, whether you wanted them to or not.
Every day I saw her at the bus stop. She didn't take my bus, but the one after mine. That's okay. I kind of wish I could take her bus, and see where she goes. Not follow her, that would be too creepy. There's a difference between following and watching from a distance. There's a difference between knowing someone by heart, and knowing someone by mind.
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