A Decisive Scrub

The industrial grease on the lower bus chassis was clinging to my gear. I dropped down from the high louver ledge and marched across the concrete to the utility wash basin. Resting on the slick zinc sink rim was a worn block of coarse pumice soap beside an old horsehair scrub brush. I didn't let the grime settle. Planting my boots firmly against the wet metal drainage lip, I hauled the stiff-bristled brush upright. Gripping the wooden handle with both hands, I raked the rigid fibers across the damp pumice block with four sharp, rhythmic strokes. Scritch-rasp-chop. The foamy gray grit loosened clean, leaving the bristles primed and my platform cleared of grease.