The Red Line Bus Stop

The cold sat and ate upon my fingers like rabid dogs.  Nibbling away at the nerves as quickly as they could as I stood outside the bus stop waiting for the five o’clock Red line.  I had unfortunately forgotten my gloves and my pockets were full of rocks I had collected from the quarry down the road.  
I don’t know why I had such a fascination with rocks, it has been the same way since I was a boy.  My addiction to rocks has caused me more then a few problems and this was not the worse of it.  
The Red line bus was a two story monster on six wheels.  The driver sat on the bottom right side behind a large front window.  The doors, two of them, sat on the left side.  One next to the driver and the other near the back.  It stopped at the bus stop with a jerk and an angry burst of smoke from a metal pipe in the back.  I shook my hands, willing the dogs from my fingers, picked up my duffel and stepped inside. 

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