He stepped up into the bus and fumbled through his suede wallet. She tapped fake nails against the wheel impatiently. With the tone of a rusted trumpet, she demanded the fare or he would have to get off. “Nobody has time to wait on you.” He rolled his eyes to flash her a look like daggers before pulling out his bus pass and swiping it hard through the scanner. He mumbled, “Bitch,” through gritted teeth as his leather briefcase knocked into the shoulder of a woman in the third row whose angry eyes met the driver’s in the rearview mirror.