This is the first draft of a story that, almost a year and a few reincarnations later, I still have not figured out. It keeps refusing to work. Maybe someay soon I’ll share the second draft.
“Look at you. Look at yourself. Just look at you this old man,” the conductor said.
“Next time you call bus-stop. You call bus-stop and wait to hear your passengers. You listen. You don’t talk as if words and not air are what you live on, ehn. You wait and you listen.”
“You are a stupid man,” the conductor said. “I am just giving you respect because of your old age, you are a stupid man. In fact, I should have beaten you. If you were somebody else I would have dragged you.” Like a violent wave the muscles in his arm rippled as he threw a balled fist into the air.
“Ehhen na. Come and drag me. Listen to advice, you hear, listen to advice. Stupid boy. See how far we have to walk now because that your mouth won’t close. If you don’t know your job is it not better to kill yourself? Your mates are doing big-big things with their lives you are here doing ordinary conductor. And the conductor even, you cannot do. What can you do?
“You have no shame. This man, you have no shame. My mates? Your own mates are at home with their grandchildren, you are here fighting conductor. You have no shame. I’m telling you if it were somebody else I would have dragged the person. Foolish man. I don’t have your time. I don’t have your time.” He ran as he talked. He jumped forward to cling to the beaten yellow bus hobbling away. Continue reading “Another Afternoon”