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A Terrible Idea 33

Anne sat at the bus stop, like a fucking nerd. She played some Candy Crush on her phone, which was sort of fun she guessed. But she felt very self conscious of the fact that she was sitting at a bus at four in the morning.

Because honestly: who does that?

Every once in awhile some overeager jogger would go by her. She also caught sight of a couple cop cars, which seemed to be coming by once every ten minutes.

That was one of the best things about Boca Raton. Late at night, you were more likely to run into a cop than you were a criminal. You’d run into some sketchballs, sure, but the truth is that most of ‘em wouldn’t harm a fly. They were just people who’d caught a lot of bad breaks in life.

Just like me, Anne thought. The moment of empathy passed when she judged the fashion choices of a middle-aged guy in crocs shuffling past the bus stop. Because, you know, she’s not necessarily a ‘good person’.

She was also worried about those cop cars passing her by. Would one of the cops ask her what she was doing? Would Jennifer pick her up if the cops were watching?

Candy Crush kept her busy, blissfully.

Still, she had to deal with one particularly annoying jogger who stopped for a couple moments. She was in her forties or fifties, wearing the typical jogging outfit of sweatpants and a tank top at this truly ungodly time.

“The first bus doesn’t come here until six,” the lady said, doing that annoying thing where she jogged in place.

“I’ll wait,” Anne said.

“That’s over an hour and a half away,” the lady said. “Long time to wait at a bus stop.”

“Yeah, thank you, I can do basic math.”

“What are you waiting for?” the lady asked. “Where you going?”

“Good question,” Anne said, in the most sarcastic way possible.

The lady shook her head. “Just asking.” She jogged away.

Anne waited for another fifteen minutes, in which time two more cop cars passed her by.

Just as the second cop car made a turn, losing sight of the stop, a school bus came into view. It rolled up to the stop, and its doors opened.

Jennifer stood in the doorway. “Get in,” she said.

Anne did.

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