The rain continued, loud and inescapable.
Closing her eyes, Bertie sank her head deeper into her shoulders, the jacket’s damp collar cold against her cheeks.
She checked the bus schedule again, the tiny black numbers half obscured by condensation collecting inside the plastic casing.
She pulled her phone out, glanced at the dark screen, then put it back.
Light swamped the shelter and her chest tightened.
It was the bus.
She rose, tried to breath as the doors opened.
Two people climbed out, one nodded the other didn’t.
Bertie sank down again.
Perhaps the next one.