Missing the bus is one of those thing you do not learn from. If I have left just three minutes early I would have been on a bus heading to the start of my day, but now I am just here alone with you, waiting for another bus to arrive in twenty minutes.
It has started to rain, but that is all right because I am under shelter. Looking up, the transparent roof and falling leaves have collaborated to make a mosaic of purple and brown.
There is a bottle of Cisco to the left of me in the corner, were someone wanting escape, has managed to drink all but a remaining ring of strawberry left on the bottom of the clear glass.
A south bound bus is passing me. I now know that the north bound bus, the bus I have missed a quarter hour ago will be arriving soon.
But I always knew that the bus would be arriving soon.
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