[ WP ] The person sitting closest to you ( or if you 're alone , the last person you saw ) suddenly touches your shoulder and reveals a major , life-changing secret .

( I have n't written anything it a hot minute, but this is what I was inspired to throw down by your prompt. ) 
 
 
 
 The bus always smelled funny. She wished that she could prop open one of the top windows for some air, but with the rain whipping by, that was n't an option. Sighing, she drew out her phone and started fiddling around, trying to find any way to ignore where she was. 
 
 “ Hey there. ” 
 
 Oh god, someone was trying to talk to her. Great. Don ’ t look, Angie, just don ’ t look, she told herself, tugging on her sweater sleeve and going back to seeing what app she could distract herself with. 
 
 “ It ’ s 75 degrees out. Why are you wearing such a heavy jacket? ” The voice wasn ’ t mean – it was n't a weird drunken voice, the voice of the hobo that always got on at 3rd and Jackson, but Angie still had no interest in talking to them. 
 
 “ Hey. Hon. ” 
 
 Oh god, why would n't this person just shut up? The widely known rule of public transport is don ’ t talk to people you don ’ t fucking know. Obviously this person did n't get that. She hunched further down, scrolling through Reddit this time, trying to find something, anything that would make this situation better. 
 
 A hand landed on her shoulder. Startled, she looked up at who it belonged to, ready to scream. The slightly familiar face caught it in her throat. Angie swallowed it, and coughed out, “ Don ’ t you live in the apartment across from mine?'' 
 
 It was an older woman, one of those women you know has lots of grandkids and 20 extra pounds she describes as “ extra love ”. Her face was well worn, but pleasant. Angie had seen her once or twice, tending her plants on the balcony. “ You ’ re the girl who always keeps her window open at home, ” the woman said, smiling down at her. 
 
 “ Yep. It…usually smells funny when I get home. ” Angie ducked her head back down. Conversation over. 
 
 “ You know…it ’ s funny, our windows are almost exactly opposite each other. ” 
 
 Angie glanced back up. “ And? ” 
 
 The woman leaned close – not in a threatening way, but Angie shrank in her seat all the same. “ I was there myself in the 80 ’ s. There ’ s a clinic on 9th and Grant. Coke or Adderall, it ain ’ t worth it, sweetie. ” The woman straightened up, smiled, and shuffled away as the bus screeched to a halt at the next stop. 
 
 The bus always smelled funny. Angie sniffed, rubbed at her nose, and glanced at her bag. The pills inside shook softly as the bus screeched and rumbled onward. 
 

