My phone lay in my lap with the disgruntled warmth of springtime fuzz. A bead of sweat made a stereotypical route down my left cheek and landed, and curdled, and died in the hollow of my ear. I shuddered at the impact and momentarily found myself telling my Grandmother that her pancakes were very good, and they most certainly wouldn’t discourage me to eat any pancakes again for the rest of my life.
The bus was full and my elbow was touching the elbow of another. Despite the additional lubrication of combined effervescent disgust, bone scraped against bone, all satisfactory sense of gristle evaporated in the opening of a window. The stickers warned against such an activity, the air-conditioning wouldn’t work, you bovine creatures. My elbow fused with the drooping scabs of my companion. I felt the familiar collection of damp accumulate in my seat, leather for your comfort. We sat in our mutual understanding of virtual self-urination. We were forever one.
A woman on the bus had a baby under her arm, fashionably hanged like a flesh feast for the buzzards, which flocked to its form; elderly formations of skin and teeth cooing at the imagined future (management style for the cannibalistic masses). They said it was cheeky. Cheeky, cheeky, cheeky, cheeky, cheeky. It gurgled and a liquid ball foamed from one of its nostrils. Cheeky, cheeky, cheeky, cheeky, cheeky. The rabbits on the traffic island outside were nowhere in view. Cheeky, cheeky, cheeky, cheeky, cheeky. They pulled at its legs and it wobbled its head.
I looked for recognition in the amassed crowd around the entrance. They couldn’t possibly fit another human in. A single face swathed in uniform looked beyond my pleading eyes to the back of my skull. A bead of sweat made a route down my companion’s arm and landed, and curdled, and died inside my clasped palm.