I think it’s my bus.
Then again, if you asked me whether the sky was blue, I’d say I wasn’t sure.
The bus rattles to a stop. A never ending flow of people disembark through its doors.
Maybe it’s a clown bus.
“Last call for boarding!” I’m not sure I heard a first call.
There’s no seats, only pillows spread over the floor.
It looks nothing like buses should look.
This isn’t right. Where’s this bus going? It can’t be mine.
“Anywhere and nowhere kid. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”
I do as he says. Nothing makes sense anyway.
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers