There`s always the same bunch of people waiting for the first bus to arrive at five twenty in the morning. There`s this young kid with a sport billy bag, an older woman who smokes and me.

We don`t talk to each other, as the hour is way too early for any meaningful conversation. We just stare at the world around us. Silent. Every morning, a guy with a bike passes on the other side of the road, riding his bike in the opposite direction from the direction we are headed.

We are waiting for the bus to come.

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