Connecting

Cavendish beach lake in the fog

His mind wandered as the connecting train departed and he awaited the bus. On this route, the bus was often late due to a poorly timed connection further up the way. Does she even like my weird. Not everything is just a quirk. Sure, there’s a random ginger orange cough drop in this bag of cherries, and they are indistinguishable. It’s like a childish variant of Russian roulette.

Then again, there was also that time Dale and I made homemade napalm and lit a pond on fire temporarily. At the top of the hill peeked the bus lights, trundling it’s way through the near empty streets. Who am I kidding? Hello, parents of Johanna. I stay out until 2 am and present like a little criminal. Sighing, he readied his bus pass at the approaching sound.

Some relaxing wind and waves from the beach, just for you ~
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Quietly, he settled into his usual spot just past the accessible seats and leaned against the window. He began to think through his plans for the next day as the bus noisily made it’s way to his stop. Seeing the convenience store pass, he pulled the cord. His brain was no longer connecting when he stumbled off the bus, taken by surprise.

As soon as he had managed to step all the way off, Johanna approached him. “This is going to sound really odd…but I need your help with something. Right now.”


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