But the bus. The #42. It was scheduled for 8:17. And Jay had a rule.
Priya pressed the elevator button. “She got me to my interview here, too. Eleven years ago. I was a mess. Nail bit down to the quick. She looked at me in the rearview and said, ‘Hottie, get in. You’re gonna be fine.’” A pause. “I got the job.” Hottie Get In The Bus For Job Interview
A small smile. “Delia still driving?” But the bus
Jay smiled. “No. But I’ll know.”
So yeah. Get in the bus.
For a long three seconds, Jay imagined it. The heated seat. The direct route. Arriving dry, unruffled, smelling like expensive air freshener instead of diesel fumes. He imagined walking into the glass lobby fifteen minutes early, portfolio in hand, no sweat on his brow. And Jay had a rule