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Writer's pictureEmily Dixon

Missed The Bus

The dark grey suit Dave was wearing wasn't made for sprinting, but he did his best and rounded the corner just as the number 6 was pulling away from the bus shelter.

 

"Damn it!" Wiping sweat from his forehead; he checked the timetable. The next bus wasn't for twenty-eight minutes and he had to be at his interview in twenty. "Bugger."

 

Dave slammed his bag down on the bench and got a curious look from an old man leaning against the wall.

 

"Sorry. Just need to be somewhere important today."

 

"Café over there will call you a cab." The old man pointed with his walking stick at a small shop with a faded yellow awning. "Tell them Gus sent you. And good luck."

 

Dave nodded his thanks and hurried toward the building. The plump lady behind the counter was happy to call him a taxi and supplied a glass of cool orange juice while he waited.

 

The driver assured him it was only a ten-minute drive, and seven-minutes later Dave could see the tall building that served as National Security's head office. He was going to make it!

 

They passed the bus that Dave had missed and pulled up outside the building. While giving thanks to the driver, Dave heard a squeal of brakes followed by a loud crash.

 

The bus was on its side, smoke billowing from the front.

 

(230)

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