Oyster Card.

You're late.
At the sound of your speedy heart,you race toward the bus stop.
You dodge between the slow movement of the weary looking faces,of the people in the bus stop queue.
Yes! You made it. But not one for pushing in,you dutifully slide into the bus stop queue.

Whilst waiting,a melody encapsulates your mind.
You begin 2 whistle the melody out loud.
It must have brought luck,for the bus arrives!
Gliding onto the bus,very much crowded bus, and eerily quiet,at that. You remove your rucksack from your back,and with pristine ease,take out your "Oyster Card."

You're not used 2 travelling on buses,but you didn't have a choice.
"Doris", your yellow,work of Art, Beautiful,Beetle car.Had broken down on the motorway. You had 2 call your mum 2 cancel seeing her. (You were halfway there. So close 2 reaching your mum). She understood.

Standing,as there were no seats available. You were squashed up against a man.
A slim,5 foot 10,strawberry blonde,cropped and gelled hair.
Large grey,blue eyes. Wrinkly pale skin-(in need of moisturizing)!, large Roman nose-(like a crows), and indivisible thin lips.

Facing him,your head reached his chest.
And that's when your nose began 2 twitch uncontrollably.

A damp,musky like leaves,smell,weaved in and out of your nostrils. Occasionally hitting the back of your throat.
The smell emanated from his hardcore breathe. Bouncing on and off your head,then mischievously,skidding into your nostrils.( you had far 2 much,indoors,nose hair,for a woman. You constantly had 2 prune your nose 2 feel like a " normal" woman).
A couple of ex-boyfriends had told you that your nose hair looked like a skipping rope,hanging from your nostrils.
You told them skipping ropes weren't black. They laughed at you.-(And that's why they're exe's).

You think you can withstand the the dreadful smell,but you know -all 2 -well,that you can't.
With nowhere 2 go,you accept the smell of thus man.

Looking up,you witness him smiling.
A perceptible smile,only you notice.
What's he got 2 smile about,you think,stepping justifiably onto his protruding feet.
Creep!-- you think. If only you could get off this bus now.
You're late!

©Wired6. 28/9/2022.
Written by Wired6
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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