“In a hurry to get home?”

Jason turned to the bus driver to see the man was watching him intently.  The crisp white shirt he wore, neat stitching over the pocket with the name “Carl” in blue letters, offered a stark contrast to his dark skin.

Wait.  Vertigo gripped him, and he spun in place to take in his surroundings.  He could feel the boots on his feet, and his shoulders slumped.  Jason turned back to the man who had just spoken.

“Carl?”

“One ‘n’ the same, son.”  Carl released the steering wheel and offered his right hand to the young man.  Jason hesitated as he looked around in confusion, then sheepishly grasped and shook the man’s hand.

“I… I don’t understand.&rdq...

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