Bus

At the bus stop, bitter cold, a line of riders waiting for the No. 3, they peer down the street, holding lunch pails and briefcases … the No. 3’s airbrakes hiss … the line pushes forward for the open door … “Hey, you!” … a man cuts into the line, mounts the steps … “Someone call the cops!” … these good people have waited patiently for the bus to carry them to their factory, office, or school … now this! … of all the nerve! … but the intruder quits the bus and says for all to hear, “Sally forgot her lunchbox!” … and the line moves quietly forward.