Continued from Free Flow 3:
I reach the bus stop and clutch the money tighter in my hand. There’s more people here than I would expect at four in the morning. I look at the bus tickets unsure where to go.
I only know where a hand full of these cities are. All the others could dump me anywhere from Ohio to California and I wouldn’t even know. I walk up to a ticket booth and stare at the screen.
Miami, Alanta, Charleston.
I can’t keep standing still; I select the one with the earliest departure time, peel two twenties off the stack in my pocket, snatch the print out and head over to the cashier person placing both on the counter.
She picks them up examining them for a moment, “You’re short 15 dollars.” She waits as a fumble for another twenty. “Do you have a bag you’d like to check?”
I shake my head, give her the twenty, and wait for my change. She doesn’t say anything when she hands me the stuff back. I step aside for the next person in line to step up.
I have fifteen minutes before the bus leaves.