2025-26 SotA Literary Magazine | Page 47

why she sounds this way. How exhausting it is to hear this raspy smoker’ s voice. In this moment, I promise to never touch a cigarette.
Just when I thought the bus would start, this guy I had talked to once on this same bus walks on, with his two gal friends: one with red curly hair and the other whose hair or face I don ' t know nor cared to remember. All three of them gave the government their money, sat across from the older woman, and continued their conversation. I was not close enough to hear what was being said, but I could hear their voices. It sounded like someone trying to talk to me underwater. It reminded me of the time I almost drowned. Anyway, this guy, whom I talked to for half a bus ride and never spoke to again, and from the mouth of a family friend ' s daughter who was not on the bus with me today, had become accustomed to giving me dirty looks. Almost like I was somewhat beneath him. I didn’ t know how to feel about this. I had done nothing wrong.
Out of the blue, a man with a medium-sized jet-black dog walked in. He was lightly panting, almost like he had a jog. Whilst he was paying, three girls clearly in high school entered as well. One shrieked, a little too loud, clearly excited, and led the group to the back to sit next to this man and his dog. And finally, the door closed, and off we went.
I realised that through the reflection of the glass, I could spy on this guy and his friends, mostly just the ginger one as she was closest to me. I couldn’ t tell if her hair colour wasn’ t natural.
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