The time was almost upon me. It hung where only I could see it, disrupting my peace of mind. All other passengers were oblivious. They knew only of their own time. They had plenty. I had none. And yet the moments stretched on.
Every time the bus decelerated, I felt a tingle of anticipation. But then the bus would swing around another corner and continue with its regular speed. Apprehensive impatience stained the peaceful slumber of the bus, marking it with mocking features. A rustle of another passenger gave me no comfort. They rested while I panicked. But it would be their turn soon enough.
But as time continued to flow past me, I began to realize that something was terribly wrong. There was something different about me. Those before me had waited with calm eagerness. I was dreading the final moment.
I had packed my things ages ago, and I sat with my bag already on my tight shoulders, even though it took only a few seconds to put on. I was ready to disembark and yet the moment was not as it should be.
Then, with a cold dread, I felt the bus begin to slow.
No! This cannot be my stop!
The bus, merciless and inevitable, continued to slow. I lurched to my feet, feeling the motion of the bus dying beneath me. As my mind began to race faster and faster, so the bus grew slower and slower. Finally it came to a deathly stop. I turned with horror to the double doors. There was a clasp of released air and the windows shook as the doors opened. The night air enveloped me, causing my eyes to water. My limbs shook and I stood back from the door, my eyes locked with those of the unknown.
This is not my stop!
Every passenger before me had gone with silent comfort.
I took a step forward.
Time was hammering on my nerves. Anxiety sloshed in my stomach. Everything was wrong. This was not my stop.
Every passenger before me had gone with silent obedience.
My lips quivered, a cold breath came to my lungs, and then I cried out, letting my emotions lay ruin to the sedate atmosphere. I was hugged close by such a fear that I was numb to the embarrassment and shame.
"This is not my stop!"
The driver who had never once said a word, nor turned to face his passengers, stood up. I did not care for his intimidating figure. I was solely lost in the terror of my situation.
"It is your turn. The bus has stopped. This is your stop." The bus driver still not turn around. But his arm slowly rose, a single finger pointing out the door. "Go now. Find your way."
I made the mistake of looking back to the door. My gaze was immediately lost in the yawning abyss and I was pulled involuntarily forwards.
I tried to say something, I tried to cry out once more, but soon all sound was covered by a roaring storm as I fell from the bus into the unknown.