by Sparks In Shadow
Don’t look. Bend down. More shots.
I should drop to the bus’s floor, like the woman with the cane, move my body farther away from … is this danger? She’s smarter, safer. That man’s helping her, placing himself between her and my side of the aisle. So nice. I should be there too, like the others. Teenagers in the back see the shooter and scream. The driver calls out. Is anyone hurt?
Should we be all right after this?
I have to keep going. Take a number, wait alone among many at my destination, take this route home. Again and again.