I left her a three dollar and twenty-one cent tip. Then I walked to the bus station. The one that was like greyhound, only local.
I hopped on a bus that was blue. It wasn’t red, but it wasn’t yellow either. I sat in the third row, left hand side of the bus.
Fifty-six red cars drove by while we made our way out of town. Four lights had been yellow.
Dietz Lake. An answer was there for me; to help me find out the other parts of me: my two parents, three sisters, four cats and goldfish.
Fish. He was an angler, vacationed this time of year. I knew it, but I didn’t know why. A light rain picked up, popcorn storm, and I counted the drops as they fell against the bus. One, two, three…
It stopped raining after 188 drops. The sun returned, and I turned away from the window. The lady across the aisle knitted, her needles clacking. I counted the clacks. She stopped after 36 clacks and pulled out a butter yellow ball of yarn.
I turned and faced the front of the bus rigidly, trying to think of other colors.