Evening Route

I moved past the perimeter of the porch and crossed the pavement to the wooden bench inside the glass shelter. It provided an unobstructed angle down the dark avenue. Minutes later, an evening transit bus slowed to the curb, discharging a sharp hiss of pneumatic brakes. I remained motionless against the backrest, tracking the hydraulic doors as they folded open and shut in a three-second interval. The engine surged, and twin red taillights dissolved into streaks across the damp asphalt. The street returned to silence.