Bus Stop, Baby


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Bus Stop, Baby

Was there anything special about her? 40’s, blonde, a bit thin. Her throat showed work done. She frequently fondled her platinum hair during dinner.

I viewed a subtle glance from my boyfriend to her. He placed his napkin on the table.

“I need a rest.”

A moment later, she left her table.

Clang. Not an idiot.

I glanced at the man she left behind, face pressed against his iphone.

I slung my purse over my shoulder, edged to the restrooms, heard the reverb of grunting.


I always dreamed of taking the bus to Santa Fe.

end 12/30/2016

S. Darlington

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