The door opened, but I didn’t look up. The sounds of commuters stepping out onto the sidewalk never came. My neighbors had little need for public transportation, specifically so late in the evening. Those that used it at all were the hired service that worked in the colossal residences nearby.

“Miss?”

The bus driver cleared his throat to get my attention, and when I failed to acknowledge him, the door swept shut. The air breaks released, and the bus slowly pulled away from the curb. I tried not to think about the day that had just taken place, but my memory became saturated with it.

Just as I did in childhood, I rocked back and forth to comfort myself. The warm peach hue had long since left my fingers, reminding me of my father’s folded hands as he lay in his coffin.

A frigid breath of air flooded my lungs and my chest heaved, giving way to the sob that had been clawing its way to the surface. I had thought moments before that my eyes couldn’t cry anymore, and I wondered how much more I would have to endure before my body would finally be too exhausted to continue.

“Cold night, huh?”

I sniffed and shot an annoyed glance to the man settling into the space next to me. I hadn’t heard him approach. He breathed on his hands, rubbed them together and then offered a reassuring grin.

“I guess,” I answered.

He looked down at his watch and sighed. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Guess we missed the last bus.”

He pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his black motorcycle jacket and dialed. He greeted someone and then requested a taxi.

“Did you want to share a cab?” he asked.

I peered over at him, immediately suspicious. His blue-grey eyes narrowed as he raised one eyebrow at my expression. I must have looked like a maniac, and he was reconsidering his offer.

I folded my arms, suddenly feeling the discomfort of winter breaking through my coat, seeping into my skin, piercing through to my bones. I had to get back to school; I still had a paper to write.

“Yes. Thank you,” I said with a shaky voice.

After an awkward moment of silence, the man spoke again. “You work around here?”

“No.” I hesitated to continue the conversation but found myself curious. “You?”

“Yes.”

How odd. He didn’t look like hired help. I glanced at his watch out of the corner of my eye. Definitely not help.

“What do you do?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I’m…involved in the home security sector,” he nodded, seeming to agree with himself.

“I’m a student,” I offered, trying to clear the ridiculous quivering in my voice.