User:Nextoy/Short Stories/The Last Stop

"Which stop leads to the surface?"

A woman stands next to the driver. All around her are underground tunnels. Why this bus even has windows is anyone's guess. They have a practical use, people can see whoever is at the different stations and how many people are on the bus already, but there wasn't a view in these caves.

No more were the rocks that shimmer and shine. No more was the glowing of tools and lanterns. Just rocks, mangled and carved away.

A few looked over to the woman. There was a station that lead to the surface. Every bus stopped there. But it was desolate, and existed purely out of necessity. Even the driver looked confused at the question.

"It's the 108, three stations along our route." The driver wanted to ask, but chose not to. That was the station nobody goes to without a reason.

"Oh, thank you." The woman seemed happy at knowing. Excited. What was on the surface that could excite her so? Some at the back of the bus murmured speculation.

"She didn't seem the type to hunt for lost relics, given that fancy dress."

"She seems too bright eyed to be meeting for a drug deal."

"Maybe she has family or a boyfriend who works in the mafia?"

The woman heard it all, and paid nothing back. What would she care what they think? In three stop's time she will never have to hear the rumors and gossip of strangers again.