He had no list. No plan. No return address.
Then the bus stopped. Not at a shelter, but in the middle of a forest clearing bathed in moonlight. The driver stood and turned to face him. the unexpected journey
The depot was empty except for a flickering fluorescent light and a single bus, engine humming like a sleeping animal. The driver, a woman with silver dreadlocks and eyes that seemed to hold distant thunder, didn’t ask for a ticket. She just nodded at the key. He had no list
Behind him, the doors hissed shut. The bus vanished into the mist without a sound. Ahead, a dirt path wound toward a horizon shimmering with impossible colors: green like lightning, gold like honey, red like a heart still learning to beat. Then the bus stopped