It’s 7:54AM and the bus is packed. I’m squished in by the back doors, trying not to make eye and/or backpack contact with any of my fellow sufferers. The plump, mousy haired, maternal archetype in the seat in front of me is engrossed in a thick novel. I’ve always been jealous of those lucky people whose stomachs let them read on transit. I sneak a peak, anything to keep from thinking about how late we all are. Etiquette aside, what’s the harm in sharing a sentence?
“She sits down and offers Mandy a breast.”
Wowsers! (a term I never use lightly) This woman, lost in her own private world of forbidden lusts – and so early in the morning too! – blows apart my first impression. I look around… so many books, so many secrets. Who are you when you think nobody’s looking? I can’t resist a second sentence…
“The baby latches on…”