He takes a step with certainty, brushes the rain off his shoulders and deposits a handful of coins next to the driver. Preoccupied with his wetness and resounding noise from his ear phones, he confidently plops himself in the first seat. The curtain of self-preoccupation lifts and across from him a handicapped man with a faded grey cap stares into his lap. Adjacent to him, a whitehaired
woman wipes her thick foggy glasses.

His head, in chorus with the other passengers, mimics the jerking stop of the wheels. A man with a slouched spine collapses his umbrella and gives it an arthritic shake. He warily fishes for his identification and a few coins as a line forms behind him. Briefcases, ties and shiny shoes anxiously breeze past him flashing their passes. The headphoned boy notices the old man using his umbrella for a cane. Without being seen, he stands and moves to the back of the bus. The old man with the umbrella sits in the seat which is unusually warm.