After work on the 14 Mission

Boarding the bus, I spot my seat and rush to settle in with my back to the sunlight that hits the bus hard at this hour. I pop on my headphones and then I smell the odor I have grown so used to: one part dirt, one part gin, and one part general funk.

He is sitting two seats from me staring at the driver, his bloodshot eyes wander off intensely and I can sense that he will speak to me eventually. I observe his ruddy pink pink skin when I can. His lips are chafed, his teeth are crooked and as he mutters to himself, the smell of gin permeates the air. A passenger sitting next to me covers his nose and looks over at him, deciding to move closer to the front of the bus.

The ruddy faced man stares at my worn out shoes for a couple of minutes and then starts to speak in my general direction. I speak loudly, "You talking to me?" He answers no but then starts to tell me that it's been one of those days. "It's one of those days when I just want to [shakes fist] you know, I want to get those people who think they have so much power." I say, hell yeah, and sit back.