I drive a bus. Every weekday I drive the same bus down the same route. Ive done this for three years and everyday it suprises me that he’s still there. The young man never aged a day as he sat on that bench. I saw him there every day for three years. Everyone else on that metal bench under the blue awning got on the bus, the one bus each day to go to that stop. Rain, sleet, or sun, the man with the thick rimmed glasses and the geled dark hair sat there. He was an attractive young man with his square jaw that was always tensed and his full business suit worn everyday. One day I stopped a regular passenger, Lucy, the well manored redhead who always road from that stop to the local college. “ do you know him” I said, pointing to the man. She stared at me blankly “ sorry Julie but I don’t know what you mean”. “Well have you ever talked to the guy” I was feeling agitated she wouldn’t answer me. The look on her face was concerned “what man?”

I wanted to call her stupid and ask her if she had gone blind but I took a breathe before responding “the man on the bench, with the glasses and the dark hair.” The every pleasing smile that graced her soft features had vanished, she stepped back before she spoke “ Julie , there is no man on the bench.” I just shook my head and waved Lucy to her seat before driving my route. As I finished my day I parked the bus and got into my small sedan. On my drive home I contemplated my day and wondered what had happened. I pulled into my driveway and turned of my car before getting out with a huff. As I went to place my key in the lock of my front door I felt the knob twist beneath my fingers. It wasn’t unheard of for my mind to slip in the mornings and some tasks to be missed. As I pressed through the hall and into the kitchen I could feel my body heave from the tires of my day. Click. I froze at the sound. I could hear hot breath from behind me, building up my courage I spun on my heels to face the sound. Shock wove its way through my nerves as recognition fazed through my brain. It was the man from the bench. In the same business attire I had witnessed so many times before. His breathe still hot and thick but not a drop of sweat grazed his face. “How do you see me?!” The man spoke in a deep voice with intent but little volume. I stuttered, at a lack of words under the circumstances. “Well you wont see me again” he announced. And the click became a bang that rung out in slow motion , its still ringing. Everything is dark. But it won’t stop ringing