Preview Of A Novel I'm Writing
“When I was younger, I took public transit to school. There was this one driver who seemed to be driving the bus every single day, all day, even on the weekends. Every time I took Bus 51, it was always that driver. He’s probably one of the best people I’ve ever met. I remember what he looked like as well - broad shoulders, discoloured patches on his face, a giant, unruly beard that was all salt and a sprinkle of pepper. Every time I got on the bus he’d yell ‘HEYA THERE, DARLA!’ in a really deep, booming voice. Then he’d laugh like a kid, just really happy. It kinda scared me a bit. But his energy was contagious.” I turn to look at her, but she’s completely forgotten about me. She’s staring into the distance. Eyes are glazed over, smiling ever-so-slightly like she’s remembering a little girl on a bus a long, long time ago. She continues in a small voice. “He had a big, toothy, yellowed, broken smile that was just pure joy. He was so happy all the time no matter what. He save
