[ WP ] Free write . Write the first short story that pops into your head .

*I just finished this this morning - does it count? Mods please delete if it does n't. * 
 
 I stumble onto the bus, and let myself drop into a seat near the back, adjusting the flask of Bacardi in my pocket. I look around, trying to settle the shifting of my vision. Some middle-eastern looking young man on my left, probably in his 20s, stares at the snow falling outside the vehicle. On my right, a younger Asian kid, probably fresh out of high school, taps away at a new-looking smartphone in his hands. He catches my gaze, gives me a brief smile from behind his horn-rimmed glasses, and returns his attention to his phone. 
 
 An older Asian man gets on the bus just as the doors close, and makes his way to the back. The bus begins to move, and I steady myself by holding onto the seat. A surgical mask, or something of the sort, covers the man ’ s face. Why did he have it? The air quality here isn ’ t bad at all. In fact, it ’ s great! There really wasn ’ t a need for anybody to wear that kind of thing. I lean over to the kid on my right, and try to say something along the lines of ‘ Does he think that will make him live longer? ’, but it comes out as 
 
 “ Helium live longer? ” 
 
 He looked at me, slipping his phone into one of the pockets of his pea coat. 
 
 “ Pardon? ” 
 
 “ Helium lives longer? ” 
 
 “ Um… I ’ m not really sure what it is you ’ re trying to say ”, he says. 
 
 I damn my lack of control, and I try again, re-stating the question another way. 
 
 “ Do you really think the air quality is that bad? ” I ask, nodding my chin towards the older man. 
 
 He looks quickly, and turns back to me. 
 
 “ No, I think the air here is fine, the guy probably just doesn ’ t want to get sick, or doesn ’ t want to get other people sick. I doubt it ’ s because the of the air quality. ” 
 
 Maybe this guy has never taken a real breath before. Is he even breathing now? I can ’ t tell under all the layers he ’ s wearing. Maybe I ’ ll enlighten him to what real breathing is. It makes me astoundingly happy. 
 
 “ When you breathe, is it your own breath? Does the air belong to you? ” 
 
 He looks confused. 
 
 “ Well, yes, I guess I breathe. ” 
 
 “ Yeah, but, does the breath belong to you? ” 
 
 “ I don ’ t really think the breath belongs to me… After all, it ’ s just air. ” 
 
 He ’ s not understanding. I can tell. He ’ s never been in a cabin in the middle of a cold winter night, stepped out, and taken a breath that truly belonged to him. He ’ s never had the opportunity to. I laugh loudly, feeling bad for his lack of opportunity. 
 
 “ If you want air that belongs to you, go to B.C. ” 
 
 “ Ah, I ’ ve never been. You think the air there is nice? ” 
 
 “ Yeah, it ’ s really nice… ” 
 
 But B.C. comes with its own problems – notably, bears. I should probably warn him. 
 
 “ But you know, bears go up and attack people sometimes! I ’ m about 230 pounds. How much do you think you weigh? ” 
 
 “ Probably somewhere in the region of 130. ” 
 
 I'm 230. He's 130. That ’ s… 360 together. That seems like it might be close enough to the size of a bear. 
 
 “ Okay, so think me – 230, and you – 130, into a bear, standing right in front of you. What do you even do? How do you get him to not eat you? Do you ever think about situations like this? You really should. ” 
 
 “ To be honest, I ’ m more of a city guy myself. Even thinking about that situation now seems kind of silly, especially because bears are omnivores. I ’ m sure they ’ d be more interested in fish or berries instead. ” 
 
 I laugh long and hard. This guy doesn ’ t know a thing about bears! It ’ s a good thing I ’ m telling him now. 
 
 “ You think a bear is going to want to eat some BERRIES when he ’ s got MEAT in front of him!? ” 
 
 He doesn ’ t say anything for a little bit, and just looks at me quizzically. His hair seems rather well-kept, and reminds me of the young Hong Kong culture. 
 
 “ You a Hong Kong kid? ” 
 
 His eyes widen slightly with surprise. 
 
 “ I ’ m surprised you can tell. Sometimes I can ’ t even tell the difference between people from Hong Kong and mainlanders. ” 
 
 I try to ask him the difference between the two, but it just ends up being a slur of unintelligible words. 
 
 “ I mean, you can tell some people are from Hong Kong because of the way they speak English. Not that they really have Chinese accents, but more along the lines of how they were taught English when they were kids – it has different intonation from both American English and British English. Kind of like a little mix between the two. ” 
 
 Hong Kong people learned British English? I never knew that. 
 
 “ So can you tell the difference between them and royalty? Like the way kings speak and stuff? ” 
 
 “ What? I ’ m not really sure what you mean. ” 
 
 I ’ m not sure how else to phrase the question. Where am I right now? How far am I from Blackthorn? 
 
 “ Where are we right now? Where are you getting off? ” 
 
 “ We ’ re at Yonge and Steeles right now. I ’ m getting off somewhere around Sixteenth. ” 
 
 “ Yonge and Steeles… Okay. I ’ m getting off at Blackthorn, it ’ s past Highway 7 but before Sixteenth. Looks like we ’ re going the same way. This IS the 91 bus, right? ” 
 
 “ Yeah, this is the 91. ” 
 
 Better call my wife, then. I pull out my shitty Public Mobile Nokia and dial her number. Tell her where I am and that I ’ m on my way. Hang up, and shove it back into my sweater pocket. 
 
 “ So what are you studying? ” 
 
 “ I ’ m in computer engineering. ” 
 
 “ So where ’ s that gon na take you? ” 
 
 “ Probably an office job somewhere. Writing software. ” 
 
 Ha! This kid! I laugh again. Is that all he thinks there is to life? When is he going to have time to actually enjoy himself? 
 
 “ You think that ’ s going to be FULFILLING? ” I ask, eyes wide, smile plastered on my face. 
 
 “ Well, a job ’ s a job. It ’ s not necessarily about whether I actually enjoy it or not, but if I can make the money to do what I want that makes me happy, I think that ’ s fulfilling. ” 
 
 “ My vocation ” - I emphasize the word because I despise it – “ is health and safety, for construction. Thankfully, I haven ’ t seen someone injured in about five years. ” 
 
 “ Oh, I ’ d say that ’ s pretty good, then. ” 
 
 “ Yeah, it is… ” 
 
 The last accident I saw was a pretty bad one. Some stupid kid was wearing gloves while operating a lathe. One of the simplest rules out there. Glove got caught in the machine. Ripped his entire arm off. 
 
 “ I ’ ve got a son – I ’ ll probably teach him everything I know about safety. How to take care of himself. ” 
 
 “ How old is he? ” 
 
 “ Just turning two, actually. I could teach him everything in the world about it. I could even teach everyone here about it. But I don ’ t have to. ” 
 
 Maybe this was too dark of a subject. Maybe I should change it. 
 
 “ Here, here ”, I say. 
 
 I pull out my TTC day pass from my pocket. 
 
 “ How good do you think your reflexes are? ” 
 
 “ Pretty bad, actually. ” 
 
 We laugh. 
 
 “ Put your fingers like this – ” 
 
 I put my thumb and index finger a centimetre apart, as if I ’ m going to pinch something. This was a trick a buddy showed me some time ago. The kid follows suit, and I put the pass right above his pinch-ready fingers. 
 
 “ I ’ m gon na let this drop. Try to catch it. I ’ ll give you three tries. ” 
 
 “ Three tries? Do I win anything if I can get it? ” 
 
 I laugh. Even if there was a prize he wouldn ’ t get it. My friend had said it was something air pressure or other. I don ’ t really get it myself. All I know is that I was never able to catch it, either. We proceed to the trial three times. He doesn ’ t get it any of the times. 
 
 “ So do you know what you can ’ t catch it? ” 
 
 “ As I said, probably because I ’ ve got bad reflexes. ” 
 
 “ No, but do you know it ’ s a FACT you can ’ t catch it? ” 
 
 “ I ’ m not entirely sure what you mean. ” 
 
 Wait, where am I right now? How long have I been on this bus for? Did I miss my stop? I look around, trying to get a glimpse of the surroundings. 
 
 “ Where are we right now? ” 
 
 “ Steeles and Bayview. We ’ re turning onto Bayview now. ” 
 
 “ Still the 91 bus, right? ” 
 
 “ Yeah, it ’ s the 91. ”
