Alice waits at the bus stop, remembering. Thoughts of how quickly everything changed often filled her mind when not otherwise occupied. Once she had a wonderful job, a caring husband. A home and family. Without notice, it all disappeared.
Alice, that’s not true, they said. There were signs.
Why spoil happiness? she would reply.
At least she had the ragged blue sweater, bought at Goodwill, to keep her warm.
The B-2 bus pulls away from King’s station, moving toward Ocean Avenue. Ed knows the route by heart. Ten years a driver and God willing, he would drive for 10 more. The job keeps food on his table but not much more. Most fares were OK and he could handle the occasional trouble-makers. Just kids with too much time on their hands.
At Ocean, the bus slows to a stop and the doors open. A lady in a blue sweater steps in. She tells the driver she doesn’t have enough change. Her eyes look sad.
“Go sit down. Bring it next time,” says Ed.
“Bless you,” says Alice.
Some things never change. God willing.
Shutting the doors, Ed pulls the bus into traffic and heads for his next stop.
198 words
Redbuds and Roserocks 