Better on time than late

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So I was running for the bus stop the other day—as I often do—when the (early) bus blew right past me and, having no reason to stop, straight through the next intersection. This left me, out of breath and irritated, to wonder how late for work I was about to be. Then I heard a honk and saw a car pull over beside me. I didn't recognize the driver, but he offered to give me a lift ahead of the bus so I could catch it. I jumped in and he drove past the next three or four stops before dropping me off. Then he was gone, like a mysterious masked stranger riding off into the mid-morning sun. Godspeed, stranger. —Perpetually Rushing


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