Board, shake your umbrella dry.

Find a seat.

Voices drown out the trickling rain.

Streetlights illuminate the bus, casting shadows.

Strangers squeeze together.

Everyone wearing Hot Breath No. 5.

Suffocating.

Germs disperse like a smoke bomb, touching me.

Don’t think about it, you’re fine.

People get on and off, more germs.

My mind wanders.

The seat I sit on, who was here before me?

Breathing becomes harder, my palms sweat.

I rock back and forth.

Let the bus move me.

Hearing everything in triplicate.

And then boom.