The bus is coming in three minutes flat
by Ruben
· 18/02/2026
Published 18/02/2026 10:22
The bus is coming in three minutes flat.
I’m standing here, staring at the mat.
One shoe on the wool, one on the stone,
wondering why I’m always alone.
The draft is a knife against my skin,
a reminder of where the world begins.
I haven't turned the knob just yet,
caught in the static of regret.