The Pen and The Wind

I’m pretty sure this is how I’m going to die.

It wasn’t enough that I was late to an intereview, or that my sister’s car broke down and I had to take a bus, but did this really have to happen, after all I’ve been through?

My hands are starting to go numb from desperately clutching onto the sharp irregular edges which were the only places I could grab in desperation. My grip is starting to slip, and my feet are sliding downward. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the bus driver had noticed by now, but I think the combination of her sunglasses, ipod, and general human apathy is why she hasn’t stopped by now. Or the reason she closed the door before I was actually in and caught my shirt and began to drive off.

It also wouldn’t have been as bad if a stray corner on a stop sign hadn’t ripped off my only pair of good dress pants. But the fact that I’m in my underwear, clutching on the side of a speeding bus that hasn’t stopped for miles, and am pretty sure I’m going to die. 

I think I should take this as some sort of sign.