The inside of the bus was full. Already there were passengers clinging to the outside. Mr. Johnson had wedged himself in with his hips, leaving his hands free to flip through a magazine as the wind snatched at the pages.
“How’d we manage before, eh, Kevin?” said Mr. Johnson by way of greeting. Kevin adhered only his left leg; easier to disembark that way.
“I’d just like to get to work with combed hair for once,” Kevin grumbled. He slapped his briefcase in place with a wet smack. The cohesion was going. It’d be time for a new one soon.
That Pot Or Vase I Think
1 day ago