The Old Bus: It vibrates as the clearly outdated suspensions create a rigid feeling over every asphalt deformity and the engine sputters about. It creaks under its own weight and that of the 50-or-so students riding it.
The Old Bus: Most stand up, while you and a lucky few more sit down. It's been your post-meridian reality for five years now, and never have you found a reliable way to sit.
LOGIC: The bus company is the only way people of your town have to move out of there without a vehicle of their own -- the train station is small, and trains come seldom.
LOGIC: They can *afford* to keep your buses cheap and old. You couldn't turn to any other company even if you tried: THEY are the only company.
ENCYCLOPEDIA: Startromagna is the regional public transport company in charge of these buses. What they exercise could only be described as a monopoly -- they have no direct competitors, nor do they run the risk of losing customers.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS: Everyone else is as pissed as you, no doubt; they all have an expression on their face that sings as a choir: "Let us out!".
EMPATHY: Everyone here is glad, in part, that they're headed home. Away from the turmoil of academic learning.
EMPATHY: Though you can't deny the feeling of dread emanating from them. Many things are terribly wrong in their lives -- but you can't really judge them.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): Don't you think the 'dread' is just your ex standing in front of you? That's a pretty dreadful experience, I would argue.
PERCEPTION (SMELL): You can feel his scent in the air.
CONCEPTUALIZATION: Like a rose with metal punk studs. The spirit of a rebel, wrapped in naĂŻvety.
ENCYCLOPEDIA: [Name], your ex-classmate and ex-lover. You knew him before he transitioned when you were middle school classmated, and when you met again *afterwards* you two had a very short lived romantic excursus which left y-
VOLITION: [Formidable: Success] No. Best not to bring up this situation.
PERCEPTION (SIGHT): The glass beside you is stained with a poultry, ghostly white. You cannot see well through it, but...
PERCEPTION (TOUCH): You can't touch it either.
LOGIC: It must be comprised of multiple glass panels, which were damaged by the weather conditions and eventually got stained on the inside. It would cost a lot to fix them, let alone repair them...
INLAND EMPIRE: You aren't missing out on much, Pear. The sky out is dead. The plants, likewise. Sights you know all too well, that you wish you could leave behind.
AUTHORITY: A company with so much money and so many paying customers has no reason to allow this vicious mockery. The glass looks terrible for a bus pass you pay hundreds a year.
PAIN THRESHOLD: Nor should it keep seats this uncomfortable, or have such a menial amount of them installed.
PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT: It's a simple task. Run along the bus as it stops, and shove whatever vermin stands in your way. Treat yourself to a seat, and them, to a hearty serving of knuckles and asphalt.
AUTHORITY: Show them how to be a real man. They are young, arrogant and, honestly, dress like shit. They look like they just came out of the shower and out on their pajamas, although it's designer wear and a trendy hairstyle.
COMPOSURE: We're better than this, are we not? That's not a fight for survival, but a brawl for commodities, and it comes off as a brutish show of strength.
The Old Bus: It comes to a stop, as it has many times over the span of this travel. It's your stop. End of the line.
