She fell into the seat as the bus lurched from the curb. Normally she would choose the cleanest seat she could find. Today the seat chose her. Caught somewhere between emptiness and agony, she stared out the window. The sky was gray. The streets were gray. The colors of the big city once dazzled her. Today they melted into gray. Her supervisor’s words devastated her.
It isn’t you. It’s the economy.
The bus driver’s gravely voice startled her.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“It’s the end of the line Miss.”
“I thought you said the end of the world.”