I Love School Buses

I can feel the humidity bubbling underneath my new polyester jacket. Suddenly, the coffee stain from this morning’s breakfast did not seem to bother me as much. I could care less about my shattered screen on my phone or that I had lost my credit card somewhere between my office and this bus stop. The breeze underneath my nose would revive me, if today was a normal day, but it is not. The hairs on my chin stand up in fright as I try to brush the cold weather away from my core. I can’t fight the frigid weather; it digs into my skin and keeps making my bones all cold. I swish the salvia in my mouth around and long for some sort of taste, but nothing comes up. My tongue feels numb inside the empty cavity of my mouth; I let out a small yelp for the bus to hurry along, but I know it won’t actually make the bus-driver speed up. I know the guy who has this route; he went to my high school. He did not like me. I am sure if he knew my current predicament though then he would rush right over to pick me up, but I can only wonder about this as I wait for the driver to come save me. I guess he can’t really save me from the stench of my own sweat. I feel like I have been taken over by a fever or an illness like the flu; I am shivering.