Story: Version 1
Albert Campbell’s Bus Stop
It was a crisp and cool Monday morning. The city was still and quiet, the morning rush hour had not yet hit. The sun had not risen over the skyline. But just like every other morning, Albert Campbell sat at the bus stop. It was an hour before the 8:00 am bus made its first stop, and Albert, just like every other day, would not get on that bus.
Albert Campbell was an odd man. Even though he was into his forties, he did not seem to have any relationships. All he had was his routine. Every morning he would wake before the sun, take his ten-minute shower, shave, and put on his expensive navy suit. He had a different tie for each weekday, and since it was Monday, he carefully chose his pre-tied silk blue tie with dark polka dots from his tie rack.
From his small one-bedroom downtown apartment, he walked to the bus stop. It wasn’t too far; Albert’s apartment was in the center of the city. He walked briskly and tall. He looked like someone important.
The bus stop was quiet at this hour; perhaps that was why Albert preferred to spend his time there every morning. After his quick walk from his apartment, which he considered his daily exercise, he simply sat on the bus station’s bench with his back straight and his hands folded in his lap. The bench had carvings of the initials of couples whose frivolous and naïve relationship had probably long ended. Albert thought if the bench were up-to-date, every heart that was carved onto its surface would be broken. The underside of the bench was covered in a thick layer of gum, left since the bus stop was build in 1962. Spray-painted designs and gang symbols littered the Plexiglas sides of the bus stop. Though the bus stop had a roof, the front was open, so when it was windy and rainy, Albert got wet. Unfortunately for Albert, this was the circumstance at least nine months of the year. This lonely bus stop did not appear to be the kind of place for a man in an expensive navy blue suit.
Albert’s bus stop sat directly in front of a park, which, by day was visited by children and their parents using the playground, and by night, was often used as an inconspicuous meeting place for drug dealers and their junkies. One of the biggest corporations in the city stood across the street from the bus stop. In a few hours, grumpy men in business suits would file into the building. A forest of tall apartment buildings was adjacent to the bus stop. Albert’s apartment building was near the edge of the forest; he could see the window of his small apartment on the ninth floor from the bus stop.
After arriving at the bus stop every morning, Albert Campbell quietly watched. He watched the ants crawl through the cracks in the sidewalk. He watched the children play in the park, and their tired mothers chase them. He watched the executives walk briskly to their offices and talk on their phones. He watched the traffic stop and go. That was all Albert did. Albert did not go to work, or to the grocery store, or to see his family. Albert never got on the bus that stopped at his bus stop ten times a day. He just watched it.
When people started trickling into the bus stop at the beginning of each hour, they kept what distance they could from Albert in the often-crowded bus stop. No one ever spoke and certainly no one ever look in Albert’s direction, because they knew Albert was looking at them. Albert’s piercing eyes looked up and down each person around him. He noticed everything about everyone. He noticed the slightest changes in people; he could tell if they were having a bad day. After just a few visits at the bus stop, Albert knew nearly everything about them. Albert noticed when each person should arrive at the bus stop, what bus they took, and when they would get back. He knew how often they were late, and if they tried to take a different bus. He could usually tell where they were going by what they were wearing. He knew the regulars, and the people who only used the bus every so often. The people of the town were surprisingly habitual, it was rare for anyone to deviate from their routine, and it was even more rare for someone new to visit the bus stop. Hundreds of people, Albert knew just as well as he knew himself. However, no one knew any thing about Albert. He was just the crazy man that sat at the bus stop every day, that was all anyone cared to know about Albert Campbell.
“Do you have a light?” A tall slender woman casually approached Albert. She had thin stiletto heels, a tight pencil skirt, and low cut blouse. She held out a cigarette between her long narrow fingers. Albert just stared; they were Marlboro Lights. He thought it was odd how many people smoked light cigarettes because they weren’t any better for you.
“Are you dumb?”
“I…uh…the first bus doesn’t come for another half hour.”
“I take that as a ‘No.’” The woman sat next to Albert. She crossed her legs and pulled a stick of gum from her purse. A cold wind blew her long dark hair from her face; Albert had never seen her before. “Why are you here so early?” She asked in a casual tone.
“I…I’ve been here since five.” People usually didn’t small talk with him.
“Do you work or something?”
“No.” Albert continued to stare at her; there was something odd about this woman. Even her presence next to him was enough to rattle him. No one sat next to Albert Campbell, and no one talked to him. The woman bounced her foot up and down and pursed her lips.
After about an hour and a half, the first bus came and went. Finally, with a crispness, which could only be attributed to the cold weather and her uncomfortable cloths, the woman left. Her hips swayed back and forth with every step she took and Albert watched her leave.
It was Tuesday, so Albert wore a red and white striped tie. He had already taken his ten-minute shower, shaved, and dressed into his navy suit. He was eager to get to the bus stop today. Every Tuesday a light was on in the third floor of the office building. Maybe that was when their weekly meeting was, or maybe it was the new employee's turn to bring coffee and donuts to the boss. Albert lived to find out. Albert walked to his bus stop with a brisk importance. The sun had not yet risen, but the light was already on in the third floor, and Albert sat tall with his hands folded in his lap, just three hours before the bus would pick up the first load of commuters.
“Do you have a light?” At about the same time as yesterday, the woman returned to the bus stop. She had on a new pair of polka dot stilettos, a nice pair of trousers, and a low-cut blouse. The woman immediately sat down next to Albert, crossed her legs, and held out her cigarette. He examined her French manicured fingernails, their yellow tinge bled through the shiny polish. An unbridled spontaneity hit Albert, and he grabbed the cigarette from her slender fingers and crushed it between his own. Brown bits of tobacco fell through his hand and onto the moist pavement at their feet. Albert watched the cigarette paper slowly change color as water saturated it. He did not look at the woman.
“I take that as a ‘No.’” The woman remained on the bench for another hour and a half with her legs crossed and her lips tightly pursed. The bus came and went. Albert watched the light on the third floor.
Wednesday was exceptionally cold and rainy. Albert’s wool suit was only moderately successful at protecting him from the elements. He was cold, but he did not let it show. He walked to the bus stop just like the executives walked to the office building, with sorrow and purpose. The moon would have been large and bright, but the clouds concealed its full figure. The town was heavy, and Albert noticed. Perhaps one can only recognize a rut when an uncomfortable change is near. The bench was soggy with rainwater, yet Albert sat without hesitation. His back was straight and his hands were folded in his lap. Every light in the office building was off and the park was empty. Albert sat alone at the bus stop, so he watched the wind blow the leaves off the trees in the park. There was always something to see.
Once again, the woman returned to the bus stop, at the same time as the two previous days. This time, she did not say anything; she reached into her purse, pulled out a lighter, and lit her cigarette. She took a puff with immense satisfaction, and then blew it directly into Albert’s face.
“That’s bad for you, you know.”
“There are a lot of things that are bad for me.” She continued to blow in his face.
“No smoking at this bus stop.” Albert started to fidget. He admired her red suede stilettos.
“I’m leaving my husband, that’s why I’m here. I sneak out before he goes to work every morning, so I don’t have to put up with his shit. Too bad nothing’s open at this hour in this God forsaken town. He doesn’t know it yet. One day I think I might just not come home. He’s a real asshole.”
The lights were beginning to appear in the office building. The light on the third floor eventually appeared. Albert wondered if it was an office or a conference room. He gritted his teeth and watched.
“Why are you always here so early?”
More lights were flickering on. A sea of black umbrellas flooded into the office building. People were accumulating at the bus stop, though, no one sat down, and no one looked at Albert or the women. Albert watched everyone-except the woman.
“My husband works in that office building. I don’t know what he does there. He lies to me constantly. Sometimes, he leaves ridiculously early in the morning; says he’s going to work. Yeah, right. I know he’s cheating on me. I can’t stand him. Someday I’m just not coming home.” She bounced her shoe up and down as she sat with her legs crossed. She tightly pursed her lips and continuously blew smoke in Albert’s face.
Albert shuffled his feet. “A light comes on very early Tuesday mornings in that office building.” He still wasn’t looking at the woman.
“That’s it. I’m not taking any more of his bullshit.” Just as the first bus arrived, the woman threw down her cigarette and boarded it with the other commuters at the bus stop.
It was still raining. Albert watched the cigarette that now lay on the wet pavement as a gentle string of smoke rose up to the sky. Though the sun had risen, the lonely weather darkened the town.
Albert Campbell took his shower at precisely 4:30 am Thursday morning. He shaved with the delicacy of an artist, and dressed into his expensive navy suit. Today he wore a yellow-checkered tie. He walked to his bus stop with resolve, and ambivalence. The third floor light was already on, however, a man stood in front of the window looking out. He was alone. It wasn’t raining today, but the clouds were threatening. Albert watched his town as it slowly grew busier. Morning traffic was slow and ill tempered. The first bus came, and after everyone waiting boarded, Albert followed.
It was a crisp and cool Monday morning. The city was still and quiet, the morning rush hour had not yet hit. The sun had not risen over the skyline. But just like every other morning, Albert Campbell sat at the bus stop. It was an hour before the 8:00 am bus made its first stop, and Albert, just like every other day, would not get on that bus.
Albert Campbell was an odd man. Even though he was into his forties, he did not seem to have any relationships. All he had was his routine. Every morning he would wake before the sun, take his ten-minute shower, shave, and put on his expensive navy suit. He had a different tie for each weekday, and since it was Monday, he carefully chose his pre-tied silk blue tie with dark polka dots from his tie rack.
From his small one-bedroom downtown apartment, he walked to the bus stop. It wasn’t too far; Albert’s apartment was in the center of the city. He walked briskly and tall. He looked like someone important.
The bus stop was quiet at this hour; perhaps that was why Albert preferred to spend his time there every morning. After his quick walk from his apartment, which he considered his daily exercise, he simply sat on the bus station’s bench with his back straight and his hands folded in his lap. The bench had carvings of the initials of couples whose frivolous and naïve relationship had probably long ended. Albert thought if the bench were up-to-date, every heart that was carved onto its surface would be broken. The underside of the bench was covered in a thick layer of gum, left since the bus stop was build in 1962. Spray-painted designs and gang symbols littered the Plexiglas sides of the bus stop. Though the bus stop had a roof, the front was open, so when it was windy and rainy, Albert got wet. Unfortunately for Albert, this was the circumstance at least nine months of the year. This lonely bus stop did not appear to be the kind of place for a man in an expensive navy blue suit.
Albert’s bus stop sat directly in front of a park, which, by day was visited by children and their parents using the playground, and by night, was often used as an inconspicuous meeting place for drug dealers and their junkies. One of the biggest corporations in the city stood across the street from the bus stop. In a few hours, grumpy men in business suits would file into the building. A forest of tall apartment buildings was adjacent to the bus stop. Albert’s apartment building was near the edge of the forest; he could see the window of his small apartment on the ninth floor from the bus stop.
After arriving at the bus stop every morning, Albert Campbell quietly watched. He watched the ants crawl through the cracks in the sidewalk. He watched the children play in the park, and their tired mothers chase them. He watched the executives walk briskly to their offices and talk on their phones. He watched the traffic stop and go. That was all Albert did. Albert did not go to work, or to the grocery store, or to see his family. Albert never got on the bus that stopped at his bus stop ten times a day. He just watched it.
When people started trickling into the bus stop at the beginning of each hour, they kept what distance they could from Albert in the often-crowded bus stop. No one ever spoke and certainly no one ever look in Albert’s direction, because they knew Albert was looking at them. Albert’s piercing eyes looked up and down each person around him. He noticed everything about everyone. He noticed the slightest changes in people; he could tell if they were having a bad day. After just a few visits at the bus stop, Albert knew nearly everything about them. Albert noticed when each person should arrive at the bus stop, what bus they took, and when they would get back. He knew how often they were late, and if they tried to take a different bus. He could usually tell where they were going by what they were wearing. He knew the regulars, and the people who only used the bus every so often. The people of the town were surprisingly habitual, it was rare for anyone to deviate from their routine, and it was even more rare for someone new to visit the bus stop. Hundreds of people, Albert knew just as well as he knew himself. However, no one knew any thing about Albert. He was just the crazy man that sat at the bus stop every day, that was all anyone cared to know about Albert Campbell.
“Do you have a light?” A tall slender woman casually approached Albert. She had thin stiletto heels, a tight pencil skirt, and low cut blouse. She held out a cigarette between her long narrow fingers. Albert just stared; they were Marlboro Lights. He thought it was odd how many people smoked light cigarettes because they weren’t any better for you.
“Are you dumb?”
“I…uh…the first bus doesn’t come for another half hour.”
“I take that as a ‘No.’” The woman sat next to Albert. She crossed her legs and pulled a stick of gum from her purse. A cold wind blew her long dark hair from her face; Albert had never seen her before. “Why are you here so early?” She asked in a casual tone.
“I…I’ve been here since five.” People usually didn’t small talk with him.
“Do you work or something?”
“No.” Albert continued to stare at her; there was something odd about this woman. Even her presence next to him was enough to rattle him. No one sat next to Albert Campbell, and no one talked to him. The woman bounced her foot up and down and pursed her lips.
After about an hour and a half, the first bus came and went. Finally, with a crispness, which could only be attributed to the cold weather and her uncomfortable cloths, the woman left. Her hips swayed back and forth with every step she took and Albert watched her leave.
It was Tuesday, so Albert wore a red and white striped tie. He had already taken his ten-minute shower, shaved, and dressed into his navy suit. He was eager to get to the bus stop today. Every Tuesday a light was on in the third floor of the office building. Maybe that was when their weekly meeting was, or maybe it was the new employee's turn to bring coffee and donuts to the boss. Albert lived to find out. Albert walked to his bus stop with a brisk importance. The sun had not yet risen, but the light was already on in the third floor, and Albert sat tall with his hands folded in his lap, just three hours before the bus would pick up the first load of commuters.
“Do you have a light?” At about the same time as yesterday, the woman returned to the bus stop. She had on a new pair of polka dot stilettos, a nice pair of trousers, and a low-cut blouse. The woman immediately sat down next to Albert, crossed her legs, and held out her cigarette. He examined her French manicured fingernails, their yellow tinge bled through the shiny polish. An unbridled spontaneity hit Albert, and he grabbed the cigarette from her slender fingers and crushed it between his own. Brown bits of tobacco fell through his hand and onto the moist pavement at their feet. Albert watched the cigarette paper slowly change color as water saturated it. He did not look at the woman.
“I take that as a ‘No.’” The woman remained on the bench for another hour and a half with her legs crossed and her lips tightly pursed. The bus came and went. Albert watched the light on the third floor.
Wednesday was exceptionally cold and rainy. Albert’s wool suit was only moderately successful at protecting him from the elements. He was cold, but he did not let it show. He walked to the bus stop just like the executives walked to the office building, with sorrow and purpose. The moon would have been large and bright, but the clouds concealed its full figure. The town was heavy, and Albert noticed. Perhaps one can only recognize a rut when an uncomfortable change is near. The bench was soggy with rainwater, yet Albert sat without hesitation. His back was straight and his hands were folded in his lap. Every light in the office building was off and the park was empty. Albert sat alone at the bus stop, so he watched the wind blow the leaves off the trees in the park. There was always something to see.
Once again, the woman returned to the bus stop, at the same time as the two previous days. This time, she did not say anything; she reached into her purse, pulled out a lighter, and lit her cigarette. She took a puff with immense satisfaction, and then blew it directly into Albert’s face.
“That’s bad for you, you know.”
“There are a lot of things that are bad for me.” She continued to blow in his face.
“No smoking at this bus stop.” Albert started to fidget. He admired her red suede stilettos.
“I’m leaving my husband, that’s why I’m here. I sneak out before he goes to work every morning, so I don’t have to put up with his shit. Too bad nothing’s open at this hour in this God forsaken town. He doesn’t know it yet. One day I think I might just not come home. He’s a real asshole.”
The lights were beginning to appear in the office building. The light on the third floor eventually appeared. Albert wondered if it was an office or a conference room. He gritted his teeth and watched.
“Why are you always here so early?”
More lights were flickering on. A sea of black umbrellas flooded into the office building. People were accumulating at the bus stop, though, no one sat down, and no one looked at Albert or the women. Albert watched everyone-except the woman.
“My husband works in that office building. I don’t know what he does there. He lies to me constantly. Sometimes, he leaves ridiculously early in the morning; says he’s going to work. Yeah, right. I know he’s cheating on me. I can’t stand him. Someday I’m just not coming home.” She bounced her shoe up and down as she sat with her legs crossed. She tightly pursed her lips and continuously blew smoke in Albert’s face.
Albert shuffled his feet. “A light comes on very early Tuesday mornings in that office building.” He still wasn’t looking at the woman.
“That’s it. I’m not taking any more of his bullshit.” Just as the first bus arrived, the woman threw down her cigarette and boarded it with the other commuters at the bus stop.
It was still raining. Albert watched the cigarette that now lay on the wet pavement as a gentle string of smoke rose up to the sky. Though the sun had risen, the lonely weather darkened the town.
Albert Campbell took his shower at precisely 4:30 am Thursday morning. He shaved with the delicacy of an artist, and dressed into his expensive navy suit. Today he wore a yellow-checkered tie. He walked to his bus stop with resolve, and ambivalence. The third floor light was already on, however, a man stood in front of the window looking out. He was alone. It wasn’t raining today, but the clouds were threatening. Albert watched his town as it slowly grew busier. Morning traffic was slow and ill tempered. The first bus came, and after everyone waiting boarded, Albert followed.