Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

Terminus

bruising my ribs… I hear him ask, “Are you OK?” and this time the door closes. He’s a good kid. I couldn’t turn around to say goodbye, I had to find a seat right away, quickly, before the bus took off. There, I’m settled. He’s not at the door anymore. I look for him on the square we crossed. I see his scooter shining in the sun. He found his friends. He has already forgotten me. I wave anyway. He doesn’t see me, but I still wave my hand behind the window. It’s for myself that I’m waving.

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