An old lady smokes and nods at the other old ladies at the bus stop. She squints in the sun, her forehead is smooth but her cheeks are craggy.
I misread my bus number, get up, lose my seat.
A fat Spanish woman wears a pink t-shirt with a faded picture of a silver butterfly stretching across her chest. It says Ultimate Catch.
A different old woman with puckered lips smokes and licks her top lip. She’s holding a can of K and making jokes with her friend.
Every kid I’ve overheard says they’re going to be a vampire for Halloween.
I am hollow and hungover, things are flooding in. I am late and I haven’t brushed my teeth.
All the old ladies wear purple.
A pair of teenage girls drink pink and blue slushies and argue over whether they should go to Brixton or Crystal Palace. One of them keeps telling the other one she has to buy some cocoa butter lip balm today. I’ve seen two boys wearing the same overpriced backpack from American Apparel. The girls stop then start arguing again.
I count yuppies.
My friend’s friend is moving to Singapore. She needs someone to take her two cats. She doesn’t want them to live in a skyscraper and she doesn’t want them to be separated. I wish I could take them.
My bus doesn’t come for another twenty minutes. At least I get my favourite seat. There are too many misplaced apostrophes on the way home.
An old man, also in purple, gets on. He has small cuddly toys clipped to his shopping trolley. There’s a puppy, a monkey, a gollywog and Hello Kitty. Everybody loves Hello Kitty.