Unwanted Info.
Last
week, I left my bus pass (and wallet) at work.
Scrambling for $2.25 in a bottomless purse where dollar bills and rusty coins
have since been replaced by credit cards and debit receipts, I decided to bank on the generous
gratitude of the 5pm bus driver who would surely recognize my face from
previous trips. My only fear was that once I opened the channel of
communication between two otherwise cordial strangers (-myself and the bus
driver), there’d be no going back. And in a city where friendly communication
between perfect strangers is more than the norm, I protect my privacy as
frequently as I can. Sure enough, my bus
ride was free that day, and a week later I learned that George was divorced in
the early 90s and didn’t see his grandchildren nearly enough. Enjoy!
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