The first thing you notice is how tall he is. No, not tall. Giant.

The man gets on the bus, bending over to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling as he comes down the aisle to find a seat. Which he does. Yours.

"You're in my seat," he says, showing you his ticket. A ticket? Where did he get that? Did he print it out? You lean over from the window seat to read it, but before you could even find the seat number, he stuffs it back in his jacket.

"No problem, I'll sit here. I like a captive audience." You notice an edge on the word 'captive'.

The man is chatty. He has an opinion on everything - politics, religion, the bass guitar. You feign interest at first, then slowly turn back to the window when it's clear he'll keep talking whether you nod along or not. You fiddle with your lucky coin while you gaze at the imaginary runner jumping over the rocks and cactus in the distance.

He finishes talking and chuckles. "And what about you? Where are you going back to?"

"I'm just... hang on, how'd you know I was going back?" you say, turning towards him.

"I heard it from my friend."

"Who's your-"

The bus lurches to a stop.

"Well, this is me. I'll see you later, kid. Keep your eyes open."

The giant gets off the bus at a stop as nondescript as where he boarded. No buildings, no crossroads - just desert coming and going.

He turns around to face the highway, standing next to the sign. Luggage in his right hand, he points at his eyes with the left, then opens his hand and makes a show of looking at it.

Your eyes flick down towards your left hand, towards the coin you've been fiddling with.

2023.