The Bus

The Bus

          Sarah decided that the temperature in the bus had reached a level even Hell could not compete with. Her genius solution was to move as little as necessary. It helped against the production of more sweat, but more importantly it made it possible to ignore the disgusting feeling of her already sweat-soaked-clothes clinging to her body.

The bus pulled over at the third stop. An old lady with a walking cane hobbled towards the oven on wheels, followed by a rather large man. Large, being the least insulting word Sarah could think of to describe him. The old lady took one of the many free seats, while the bus lunged to the side as the large guy hoisted himself up the two steps. He slowly started to make his way through the small alley. His passage through the bus was marked by the moans of other passengers, who had the pleasure of getting up close and personal with the man's not-so-small behind. As the sounds of horror became louder and louder, a dreadful feeling overtook Sarah. It was so intense, she instantly became a believer and silently started praying. Too late. The leather seat next to her wheezed as if it spontaneously got a bad case of asthma.

Sarah was momentarily shocked. The man didn't notice her discomfort, actually he seemed intent on increasing it. His hand was furiously digging through his pocket. No, not his pocket, a pouch on a tool belt. With a massive groan he finally retrieved whatever he had been looking for. From her sandwiched position between the man and the window, Sarah stared in amazement at the screwdriver he was waving around triumphantly. “Found it! Let's get this air-conditioner fixed, so you folks can go on your way!”