Maybe next time

The sun seemed to flare out, mercilessly roasting anyone in its path. Another tiring day had ended and she walked towards the bus stop stonily. “How does this happen over and over again?” she thought to herself as she made her way to the busy crossroad. Just as she reached the corner, the traffic signal that had been red all along turned green. She groaned in frustration as the cars zipped past, mocking her. The past week had been tiring – no, exhausting and all she wanted was to get back home and crawl under her quilt. Maybe after a cup of cold chocolate milk.

After what seemed to be an age, the light turned and the traffic slowed, reluctantly allowing pedestrians to pass. After maneuvering past a bike who had decided that traffic lights could not dictate his movements, her slow walk to the bus stop resumed once more. A few moments later, she lifted her head and noticed that the traffic had begun flowing again. “Already?” she thought to herself, “I don’t think the transport corporation spares much thought to walkers…” A loud honking startled her and she turned. A look of absolute incredulity passed over her face. Her bus had arrived earlier than usual.

She picked up her pace, knowing that missing this bus would mean waiting for another hour for the next, more crowded one to come along. As the bus slowed, her quick walk turned into a jog and without warning, she found herself sprinting to catch up. The bus seemed to whirr tentatively, as though trying to decide what course of action to take and within seconds, it had started ambling along. She increased her pace, her bag flying after her, jerking on the shoulder strap every few steps.

The bus had picked up speed by the time she reached its door and despite hearing the little voice scream inside her head, she jumped in. Her foot found a firm grip on the bottom step and she was inside the bus, panting. “Wow, that was a stupid thing to do!” the little voice yelled at her, while she gathered herself and started looking for an empty seat, “You could have been killed – or seriously injured! Are you mad?” She brushed it off and muttered, “I’ll be more careful next time…” She froze as the woman sitting in front of her turned around and carefully surveyed her surroundings, after which she turned back to her mobile phone.

She let her straight face slip and shook her head. “I should be more careful next time – I can’t expect this sort of foolhardy luck to hold strong. And you keep hearing these stories about people falling under the wheels and being driven over. It must be a horrible way to die.” The bus creaked in agreement and went rather hastily over a speed breaker. “If only these bus drivers knew how to drive and not take off in such a hurry to stick to their schedule. Ugh – what a messed up place this is!”

She found herself home in an hour and as she walked towards the wooden door, she almost thought that she could hear someone crying inside. A gust of wind pushed the door open and she found her mother sniffling as she ran the dusting cloth over a large picture, a new addition that she was unaware of. “Ma, what on earth is…” Her mother’s hand moved and her eyes fell on her own photograph, blown up and garlanded. She expected her heart to drop but it didn’t – she only felt light-headed. The bus… She had never made it onto the bus that day. That horrible day. She relived the pure terror that took hold of her as the wheel moved closer and within moments, the light around her seemed to disappear. Just as it was doing right now.

It was a hot afternoon and the sun was scalding anyone who happened to be caught out at that time. She dragged herself along, cursing her bad luck. “Maybe next time, I’ll leave earlier,” she thought to herself, “but for now, I’ll just get home, drink some cold chocolate milk and crawl under her quilt.” She continued her walk and let out a frustrated sigh as the signal turned green for the traffic.