Homeward bound.

Editor’s Note(s): This was actually written last week but didn’t get posted because it was overcome by events (OBE). This is the latest excerpt from my novel.

I’ve watched the seasons change from this lonely bus seat. I watched the days shorten, watched the nights grow longer. I watched the city lights fade into suburbia from dawn ’til dusk and back again.

There are some things that change: the apparel of my fellow commuters–shifted from simple suit jackets and sportcoats to long woolen overcoats and scarves. That seems to be this route’s preferred style of dress.

There are some things that haven’t changed. Like the fact that I’m (quite often) the only woman that takes the bus this late in the evening. Likely a foolish choice, but one I’ve made this evening.

There are the phones and tablets and newspapers. Each of my fellow passengers is head down, engrossed in something. One, a tablet with a movie featuring Andy Samberg. Another with today’s issue of the Post Express–the free paper for commuters that features one of my personal favourite crossword puzzles. The man in front of me, he’s checking email. The man behind? Reading a book about his 401(k). Gosh, his lady must be lucky. Not everyone reads about funding their retirement in their spare time.

The one thing we all have in common is a simple desire to escape our commute.

I may have a pencil and a notebook and and a chicken-scratched novel about the characters in my commuting life, but that’s my escape. My words, my half-cursive writing. That’s my way out of it.

By itself, without a distraction, this commute is painful. A rickety, bumpy stop-and-go hour of monotonous droning and robotic voice announcements letting me know I’m barely closer to the house.

I’d like to be home, wrapped in blankets, with simply the television and my notebook in front of me.

It’s been a long, long day.

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