It's got that certain something something. The character is tangible. I feel like- if the narrator walked in the room I would recognize them.

Deena, that's lovely and incredibly evocative. Write more, please!

I never ride the bus. I realize this shouldn't stop me writing a drabble about it, but.

What AmyLiz said. I think the last time I rode a bus was about 10 years ago, because my car was parked in. Otherwise, I wouldn't have.

That was absolutely lovely, Deena.

Thanks guys. I really hope someone keeps giving drabble prompts because I can never think of anything to write until I see it. Sometimes I still can't think of anything, but at least it's more likely that something will float up.

If I may try my hand at a prompt?

The day off.

with dreams come responsibilities

In larger towns, the bus is filled with young professionals, working mothers, folks on their way to the courthouse. But in mine, only the destitute ride. It doesn't go far enough to be hip, or often enough to be convenient. But this is not a walkable town, so if you can't afford a car, it's your only choice.

But I am stubborn in my ideals. I grip my little green ten-ride ticket, seven holes already punched, and ride my way to a cleaner future, one where you can still breathe the mountain air. I ride, and dream of better days.

The summer of my eleventh year brought a bus line to my town. For twenty-five cents, we fell in love and bought our freedom, squandering it as only 11 year olds can. No longer a 30 minute hike from Albertsons lugging our precious melting cargo, we could ride to Skaggs and buy ill-advised amounts of candy and soda in air conditioned comfort. We could go alone to the Mall to buy sparkly unending fads and eat ourselves sick on Dairy Queen. We could just ride around the city, bored out of our gourds, aspiring to sophistication.

Our affair ended with that little rectangle of laminated photopaper bearing our face, 4 years later.

Walking through the morning market, restless in someone else’s clothes, thinking about the job. A lifetime of habit tracks the city watchmen, yawning as they watch merchants haggle over fresh produce. On impulse, he snags some grapes while the vendor smiles at a comely servant girl. Years since he had to steal his lunch. The petty victory brings a smile to his face as he scales a teahouse wall and takes to the roofs. Relaxing in the sun, he eats grapes and spits the seeds down onto rich men’s heads. This time tomorrow, he’ll be rich or he’ll be dead.

This is kind of tangentally on-topic: does anyone have any advice about reading one's work out loud? Other than practice the selection a couple of times? I'm starting to get a tiny bit nervous about the Internet radio interview thingie I'm doing with Victor and paperdol. They will be amazing and brilliant, I know this. I just want to make sure I don't sound like a moron.

We're reading our work out loud?