Home is Where You Park It
Ain't she a beaut?
I stared at number 148 for a while with my hands on my hips as the wrecker lowered her to the earth. I didn't know that you could fall in love with an inanimate object but there was soul in this bus that mirrored something in me and I felt home. Maybe this will work out. Maybe I can make us both livable again. My heart swells for a moment and a flash of hope, for both of us, crosses my mind.