[prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/]
Pull up. Stop. Set to park. Open door. Close door. Set to drive. Head to next stop.
The grind. That’s the only way to describe it. He was worn thin from all the smelly dirty socks life had dished him instead of food for all of his fifty years. Was worn thin from losing both his parents to drugs, his brother in a gang fight, his sister to the streets. Worn thin from the many encounters with the police, the trial, the hair’s breadth distance he stood from being shut into prison the rest of his life. Thin from the day in day out work of driving around the same route, preforming the same actions over and over again.
“Bus driver, Jake stole my notebook!”
He glanced up into his expansive mirror to find the little blonde girl who constantly wore bows the size of basketballs at the back of her head waving her hand frantically.
“Give it back,” he bellowed, making sure the bus was still centered in the lane and the red Nissan that had been riding is ass the past ten minutes wasn’t trying to pass him.
“No! Not until she says sorry.”
He sighed, clenching his fist. He wasn’t paid enough for the shit he had to deal with.