robbed? I barely have anything apart from my notes, but what would I be without my notes.
The friend whose hair was red, maybe orange, fire-like ombre got off the bus. She looked at me as she passed by, and I ignored her by looking through her. She and the other one whom I still haven’ t bothered to notice walk away. He is sat alone. From the corner of my eyes, I see him put his headphones on, I think to seem less alone, but it was probably to drown out the laughing. Even now, we don’ t acknowledge each other. Too much time has passed.
And then, a pop sound, loud and nerve-wrecking. She had laughed until she had popped like a balloon at a 5-year-olds birthday party. The bus didn’ t stop. Time did however, as people on the lower half of the bus tried to process what had happened. Blood and guts flew everywhere. Her friend whispered screamed. Almost like she couldn’ t believe that her friend just died.
And then the throwing up began. No one could help anyone because they were all occupied with their own suffering. Row by row, all those people on the bus threw up from the mere sight and shock of the suddenly dead girl. I looked at the guy that I would have been friends with. He too is throwing up. By now, the strong pungent smell of vomit walked upstairs and there the people started to throw up as well, and it was so much it rolled down the stairs and the entire floor was covered in vomit, so much so I had to put my feet up on the chair. Through all of this, my solace was my window. Looking outside to avoid the scene inside. And it continued for a while. I couldn’ t
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