I climbed onto the transit bus and hesitantly chose a sideways spot on the right of the back. What I thought to be the most isolated. I didn't want the smell of crystallized deodorant coming from the public to seep into my sweater. I crossed my legs into a pretzel and looked over the people sharing the ride.. Unpredictable herds of common human-types, travelling in packs. An array of old women flock to the front seats. They always do. A pudgy one sports a decidedly red crew cut and a pair of round silver glasses. Two worlds balanced on the bridge of her wrinkled nose. She’s probably on her way home from the cubicle she works in. Counts minutes in. Seconds. The woman beside her could be her sister, though I'm sure they aren't even aware of each others existence. Their shoulders touch with ease yet they know nothing about each other.
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