1:27 AM – 21 – bus station angst

The gray strip of carpet stretches in from the grimy door like a filthy tongue laying against the grainy floor tiles. They were once white but are now a sort of light brown, with a grayish tinge that matches the loose strands on the fading carpet. Above the exit door with its spotted glass crossed by iron bars, a “no smoking” sign shines day-glo orange. Cars whiz by outside, spewing exhaust as their tires grip the salt-stained road. My bus pulls out and leaves the station as I sit on a bench littered with debris. I have never been here before.

I have met someone online, someone I am interested in meeting. I am here to do that. After the initial, inevitable disappointment, we become friends and I move to Ann Arbor for the summer.

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