The Bus Stop People

So I’ve been pretty lazy about my writing lately. I usually try and write something everyday because if you don’t use a skill you know you’ll lose it… unless the skill is bike riding apparently. And on my drive home from work this morning I was struck with inspiration. I smugly drove past the bus stops on the way, safe in the knowledge I wasn’t going to be one of the people that would have to get on a bus. And there I saw inspiration, the people. I don’t know about everyone else but I automatically imagine what kind of a person they are from their expression and clothes.

The World Weary Woman

It’s seven minutes past six in the morning and there she stands. The sun is proudly beaming across her face and the crisp morning air lightly swims by her. But she can’t enjoy the little touches of nature this morning. The golden streams of sunlight glare in her vision as she squints to see her bus slowly ambling up the hill. There’s no pleasure in the knowledge that it comes, her face set in a resting frown. She sighs and rubs her eyes. When they open again there’s a glaze there, the unmistakable weariness of a life and soul that has been crushed by the human rat race.


The Hipsteriest Hipster That Ever Did Hipster

Every morning he’s there, even on the weekend. Ten minutes past six and he eagerly anticipates his bus. At the edge of the pavement he cranes his neck to keep a look out for it in a way usually reserved for toddlers. His thick rimmed glasses catching the sunlight  while his black skinny jeans absorb it. His hair always has a certain damp look to as it sits on his head in the messy pile otherwise known as ‘the man bun’. He’s trying and failing to grow a thick and full beard, instead it sprouts across his jaw line in patches and an uneven shambles. His tight black t-shirt is not flattering in any way but it makes it easier to see him stood behind the counter at your nearest coffee shop, taking great pride in the “art” he’s creating with steaming milk, boiling water and ground coffee beans.


S. Hansen


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