She Just Hates Busses

Don’t mess with me. I’m a demon. I thought. My body language exuded attitude, as I tried to look tough.

The truth is, city busses terrify me. And here I was in line at the stop, approaching the bus door.

I am tough. I am strong. Breathe I lied to myself. I wore a slight scowl. I hope it said ‘Stay Away’.

Busses were crowded. There were germs, theives, smells, and tight spaces. I hated tight spaces. The only safe way off a bus was the door. There wasn’t enough fresh air. I could never get enough fresh air.

The people loaded, there wasn’t a seat near the front. I had to sit in the middle, with the germs. A little boy and his mom sat beside me. He had a toy monkey. He was too close. His monkey was too close. I could read the name tag, Sean. I began to breathe faster, my pulse quickened. If the bus lurched to one more stop, I was afraid I would puke!

My head spun, I closed my eyes.

The bus bumped, I went pale and reached for the stop cord. I pulled and screamed.

But nobody knew why.

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