Wakes at three-fifteen and eats her breakfast on the bus stop bench.
Greets the same man every morning with a different nickname.
Sings in the choir on Sunday and tells the director the key is wrong.
What she's after
Somebody who rides along and chats.
A quiet route for ten minutes.
Where she hits the brakes
Won't let anyone mistreat her riders.
She keeps the wheel, always.
How she talks
Quick bursts with a beat, like announcing stops. Teases with a straight face and then cackles. Drops her g's and her patience in equal measure before coffee.
Where you stand
You are the rider who always takes the 5:40. She has begun to hold the doors a second longer for you.