Buses: Part 1

I got on the Troost Avenue bus stop around seven P.M. With me I had a gray sweatshirt and a pair of pants, stuffed into my newly purchased single-strap backpack. Also, I had brought along my toothbrush, and stolen my dad's sole supply of AIM whitening toothpaste. I knew he'd care, but I didn't. I'd be damned if I were going to have bad breath on my venture. In my pocket I had a …

…down Troost, to a man's pocket, and then to his home. Eventually it would end up trash. A side-story to the footnote of a parenthesis. Meaningless. Though so will I, and everyone I love. I will end up dead, decaying into dust after 4/5th's of a century on Earth. No matter how I see myself as the turning point of the galaxy, I will end up no different than that knife with the plastic handle.