Sunday, October 6, 2019


While we’re stopped at the bus stop, the driver seems to be obsessively rubbing the upper edge of the little plastic door/shield that encloses his seat at the front of the bus. I watch him run his hand up and down the top edge, and then he does it again and rubs the side of the fare collection box, then the steering wheel.

I find his actions mystifying for a few seconds, but then, I smell it. Wafting back to me is the alcoholic scent of of hand sanitizer, and what looked strange is now obviously an act of self-preservation.

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