Two minutes seven inches of Heaven
Black PVC and a sliver of diamond resurrect singular first-time memories
I remember everything single thing about it. The squealing windscreen wipers on the bus, slightly out of sync, one completing seven cycles to the other's six. Condensation streaking down my window, collecting in the rubber seal then sloshing out whenever the bus slowed, accelerated or stopped. I was cold, my polyester cardigan, short cotton dress, insignificant shoes and soggy tights no protection against the autumn's chi...