Almost Missed It

He's in his early-20s, trim but with a bit of acne still left over from his teenage years.

He is seated alone, although the bus is filling up quickly. I've previously referenced how I am usually the last person to earn a seat-mate on the bus. Apparently this applies to any young white male.

A blue MEC bag rests on his lap, and he has pulled out a copy of Shakespeare's King Lear and is reading intently. As much as he's young, his wardrobe is hip without being contrived, and he sports an engineer's ring on his left hand. Why he "bethought to take the basest and most poorest shape that ever penury, in contempt of man, brought near to beast" by riding the bus is beyond me. Perhaps, like me, he merely enjoys the ambiance, or the lack of commuter stress, or the fuel savings... or the chance to catch up on his reading.

His cell phone rings. Seeming slightly annoyed, he leans over and fishes it out of his pocket to answer it. Sticking a finger in the book to hold his place, he raises the book to his opposite ear to block out some of the noise on the bus so he can hear his caller.

The call ends and he puts the phone away and resumes reading. He is so focused, so devoted to the script... but it is Shakespeare, after all. If you don't stay completely zoned in, you'll soon be without a clue as to what is happening to the dear, sad protagonist. The bus rumbles merrily along as he devours the rich text.

The bus stops to pick up new passengers. As they board the bus and the front door closes, he looks up and around, then slaps the book shut with a start and bolts for the back door.

There's his stop.

He almost missed it.
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