Taking off like a bat out of hell, you sprint toward the steps leading down to the bus stop. Curse these people walking home from finals! They keep getting in the way and you lose sight of the shadowy figure. There are so many people all over the place. But you saw him head in the general direction of the bus stop, so that’s where you go, full speed … until you get drilled by an oncoming bicycle.
“Damn you idiots! When are you going to learn to watch where you’re going?” you ask not-so-silently. He just sneers at you and rides away.
Slowly, you pull yourself off the ground and resume your search for the man who stole the saving grace of your life.
First, you step on the Washington Avenue Connector, which is nearly full. You scan the seats and although you see several people you know, you see no one resembling the man you saw run from Willey Hall.
Dejectedly, you start to think the man and your ticket are lost forever. So you head towards the last bus in line, a red line campus connector, when you see him staring at you out the window of a rear row seat.
Just as you see his face, the driver, a middle-aged, bitter, blond woman you have had words with several times throughout the quarter, shuts the door and starts to drive off. You give chase, screaming and yelling, but, unfortunately, you didn’t account for the ice patch still remaining on the ground. Your rough day gets worse — as the bus gains speed, you lose your balance and fall … right in front of the front right tire of another oncoming bus. Not only did you not get to make your final, or your trip to Baja, but there will be no spring break and no spring quarter for you either. What a lousy way for the worst day of your worthless life to end.
THE END