Shutter the windows and dim the lights out, my somnolent brain imagined. I was gradually leaning towards my right as my mind quickly drifted into oblivion. The streetlamp, despite its rock-hard and rugged surface, made a pleasant temporary couch. I was only forced back to reality when a blaring honk of a bus sent every inch of my body quivering. Still partly imprisoned in a sleeping trance, I wobbled my way up the steps and into the bus. People kept filling the bus like sheets of rain flooding down a roof and soon the old bus became stuffed tighter than a turkey. Even in my semi-consciousness, I could tell that the bus was rickety and I could almost hear a cry from the 4 wheels. 

Before I hunted for a seat of which my spaghetti legs crave, the bus trundled from its depot and soon every individual on the bus was swaying side to side like retreating waves on a beach. The bus was anything but luxurious; the seats and windows shook with every slight bump on the ragged pavement, jostling everyone back and forth.

Even in the bitter-cold January winter, I could feel a summer heat radiating from all the bodies pressed around me. I had never felt claustrophobic before but a speck of panic slowly rose beneath  my chest since space became increasingly scarce. Every second was occupied by the trampling of feet or the shoulder bumps and I could hear a few grunts every now and then. To add to the nauseous ride, loud and obnoxious children yelled and shrieked. I only could grit my teeth in annoyance. The further the bus went the greater the tension with all the bumps and commotion which occurred. Soon enough, my blood boiled and my mind restless throughout the ride.  

Thankfully, my apartment was just about three stops away. I could endure this ride no more.  As I looked at the familiar lush greenery around the apartment perimeters, I could almost relish the delicious, cool, fresh air caressing my body, ventilating the life back into my body. 

The first step out of the bus will always conjure an unrivaled feeling of liberty and of tranquility. As I took a swift turn back to the bus, the doors dramatically shut like prison doors, confining the empty faces back on deck and cutting the short supply of air and the bus swayed its way forward. 

The arguably toughest part of the daily routine had passed and I could not be happier to prance my way to the apartment, not a care in the world.