The Ticket

A woman, maybe just like you but taller, is getting onto a bus.

She's using her legs, and is carrying too many things. Her purse. Her return ticket. Her phone. Her handbag.

Her left ear has her right headphone in, and her left headphone is dangling like a spider over her right breast.

She's struggling. The old man in front of her is taking a long time. He's not from this town. He doesn't know which stop he needs. The bus driver also doesn't know what stop the old man needs, because the bus driver is not the old man.

The woman who is carrying too many things, tries to manoeuvre some objects into her handbag, but the zip is closed and stubborn. In her left ear, she can hear Fleet Foxes. In her right ear, she can hear the bus driver and the old man trying to establish where things are, where things need to be, and where is a happy medium.

Behind the woman, maybe just like you but shorter, is a young father with a pushchair. The pushchair has a clear plastic covering stretched over it to shelter the occupant, though it has not rained today. The occupant is his young daughter. The young father tuts.

The young daughter is not interested in the young father at the moment. The young daughter is not interested in the old man and the bus driver. She is not interested in the delay. She doesn't even realise there is a delay.

The young daughter is interested in the woman holding too many things, who is biting her top lip as she grapples with her handbag. The woman drops her return ticket onto the floor of the bus, and doesn't notice.

The young daughter is interested in the ticket, which is in a clear plastic sleeve. It is the same clear plastic that is sheltering the young daughter from hypothetical rain. There are two plastic barriers between the daughter and the ticket.

The young daughter sees this as a challenge. The young father is looking at the ceiling of the bus with his tongue pressed to the top of his mouth.

The young daughter, unstrapped, slides out of the pushchair and beneath the plastic barrier. She stretches out a tiny hand to retrieve the sheathed ticket.

The woman, maybe just like you but older, realises the ticket has fallen, and bends over to pick it up. The woman's left headphone drops like a wrecking ball in front of the young daughter's face.

The young daughter stops mid-grab. The woman smiles at the young daughter. The young father shouts at the young daughter.

The bus driver shouts at the woman. She's next and is holding up the queue.

The young father tuts.

The woman, maybe just like you but a woman, displays her ticket, juggles her possessions and climbs the stairs to the top of the bus.

The young daughter watches the woman all the way up the stairs. In her right ear, the young daughter can hear the young father chastising her. In her left ear, she can hear Fleet Foxes.