Bus Stop

“Mommy, I want to look at the map.”

“Not now, sweetie,” she said, tracing her finger forth and back across the labyrinth of lines, numbers, colors.

Her daughter unzipped the front pouch of their lone piece of luggage. She tugged at her blanket stuffed inside.

“Can I see the map now?”

“Not right now,” said Mom.

“But why?”

“Because I’ve never had to use one of these before.”




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