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You've got more than a few words for that bus driver, specifically to ask if there's another bus out of here. Ordering an Uber from god knows where you are would mean you're out of food money for a week. You'd rather use your ten-dollar annual bus pass. As you take a step to leave, you hear the sound of flowing liquid. You look down, watching the stream of gasoline start to reverse. The gas puddle gets drained out from under and behind the bus; you watch your relfection disappear as only a few drips of the pool are left in the end. What the fuck?
