It was four in the evening and Jerry sat on the red bench of the bus stop with a strange golden key around his neck. His childish-looking backpack sat on the rough concrete at his feet. And somehow he knew that it would be the only piece of home he’d have, wherever he was going. He felt so much younger than sixteen.

There was a phone booth beside the bench of the bus stop, and the phone inside began to ring noisily. Jerry jumped at the sound. The shrill noise continued- was it only minutes? -and then stopped abruptly. Jerry instantly regretted not picking it up.

Time felt different already.

Jerry closed his eyes to collect himself. When he opened them, a large bus was parked directly in front of him. On its side was painted simply the word BUS in royal blue script. It made no sound. As it sat there silently, it seemed to be breathing like some sort of animal. Jerry had never seen another bus like it.

When the doors opened, Jerry got on, knowing that he would ride the BUS to the end of the line.