like sleeping horses

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another dull grey morning and i find myself, half asleep, walking through woodlands to catch the 10.03 #38 bus to Kirkcaldy.

the air is cold but i breathe in deep, filling my lungs with a sense of purpose. the purpose of staying awake.

i arrive at the bus stop, delighted that i did not have long to wait. it was 10.03. it was on time.

i board the bus and sit near the front. the bus is practically empty. i gaze out the window as the bus rattles through the rural stretch between Thornton and Kirkcaldy.

horses, in winter jackets, stood still in the fields. ‘are they sleeping?’ i wonder. ‘am i sleeping?’

like horses, i too can sleep standing up if i’m tired enough. this might just be one of those times, despite needling three cups of coffee before leaving the house.

daffodils stood in line, as if proudly heralding our arrival, their bright yellow trumpets a welcome splash of colour.

a clearly able-bodied couple board the bus, laden with bags of groceries. i watch as they sit in the first empty seats. of all seats available to them, they choose to occupy those reserved specifically for the elderly and/or disabled, including the wheelchair bay.

as Fate would have it, a woman in a wheelchair embarked at the next stop. i listened, in horror, as they tutted and muttered amongst themselves of their inconvenience.

‘WTF!?’ i thought to myself.

with blatant reluctance, they shifted seats to accommodate the disabled woman. pitiful.

i heard the woman in the wheelchair apologise to them.

who are these people? are they sleeping?

i despair of humans.

(c) Kat McDonald 2014

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