An Hour in the Life of Nova


Public transit. My favorite way to get from point A to point F. It’s inconvenient, noisy and the other passengers smell funny. Most people can’t stand the stench of normal like the one sitting next to me. He slumped over and bemoaned the state of the human condition. I just smile and roll my eyes because his weird is not as toxic as he wants to believe.
He is tall in a too tall way, compared to me. Looking up puts me in a place where I am young and helpless.
The bus lumbers on unaware of the panic just beneath the surface. I hum off tune the sound track of my life. Sad songs, even the happy songs are sad. He is still brooding about the truths of life and I could strangle him. Life is easy. Living is hard.



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