Not for the first time tonight, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here. The cold’s biting at my fingers and I shove my red-raw hands down further inside my jacket pockets, trying to seal out the draughts. Icy rain thumped down on me on the walk up to the bus stop from home, so I’m freezing cold now and looking forward to getting a heat on the bus. I’m not looking forward to what’s going to come afterwards though.

I check the deep inside pocket of my thin jacket. The cold handle of the little knife bumps my fingers; it’s a reminder of what I’m going to be a part of tonight and suddenly I want to sink back into the darkness behind the bus shelter. I’ll melt into the grey dark and the driver won’t see me. He’ll drive on and I can say that I was just seconds too late to catch the bus. But I see now that the bus is only a few yards away and I move forward to be ready to step up.