EXTRAS Short Story Saga: Time to tell your story

Observations From the Last Free Seat of a Bus Wet With September Rain

Written by: Julia Collier

A woman watches the window frame eat up the scenery at 40 miles an hour. Right next to a girl, curled into another like a comma. Her eyes reset. Again. Fast, like she thinks she’ll see it again. Sad, like she knows she’ll see it again. The bus is dense, with too many consonants.

Day settles right on top of rain on top of a bus on top of 8 AM leaves, pressed to the city-like skin.

A man—we’ll call him March—steps on in. Smile like you wouldn’t believe it. Fingers like twigs. Eyes soft as the feeling of feeling. The bus moves. The man speaks—the engine eats it right up. Morning runs rivers into his palms.

The windows take up distance like it’s never tried before. Don’t leave a bit; trees, concrete, sunset & all its blindspots.

A picture: the sun, rising, only to fall/the bus, going, only to come back to the same sidewalk (& its Autumn bruises)