The Pilot on the Bus

A short story about chance encounters .

Photo by 은 하 on Unsplash

The bus service X22 had always run along the coast from Stowswold to Hampton-By-The-Sea. Floss took the route every day for work, hopping on right outside her front door in Stowswold and disembarking on the doorstep of the Drift Cafe, five minutes before her shift was due to start. This had been her routine for the last three years and she still found great pleasure in sitting on the bumpy bus, staring out the window as patchwork fields followed her on the left and an unpredictable sea lay on the right. Most mornings the sea was a dull grey, small waves gently lapping onto the shore. Other times it was huge angry white horses crashing and chasing away the tourists. Occasionally, as it were on this particular morning, the sea was a deep blue and calmly moved forwards as if it had lost all its steam. This was Floss’s favourite kind of sea, and she settled into her usual seat, three rows from the front of the bus and thought about the day ahead. Because of the recent nice weather, the cafe would be busy again.