The man at the bus stop

In a fit of rage, he punched the man.

15 minutes earlier

He had been waiting at the bus stop for what seemed like an hour now. Perhaps he was overestimating but he wasn’t in the mood for accurate time keeping. He had bigger problems: It was raining hard, he had missed a bus & all the seats in the shelter had a quarter-inch thick layer of rain water on them. Oh, & he needed to haul his ass to work or get an earful from his boss for the 3rd time this week.

He stood in the center of the shelter, as far away from the rain as he could; cursing himself for not drawing cash from the ATM earlier so he could atleast afford a cab. Right now all he had were 2 dollars & a shitload of change.

Just then came an old man, with a nasty cough, who hobble-ran his way to the bus stop. The man decided to stand inches away from him, taking cover from the rain; the incessant coughing began blasting stale, sexagenarian breath into his face.

With each cough, and the bus nowhere in sight, his patience ran out.

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