6:30 in the morning is when my alarm viciously chirps me awake. The shower. It is warm. Hallelujah. It is 60 degrees outside as I open the door and step out into the light. My bus station is only a few short steps from my house. I am the first to arrive at the stop but not for long. People start arriving in droves: two Asian gentleman, one Asian gentlewoman, a mother and child, and me; we stand alone, a generation apart, also as well a continent.
The bus is my sanctuary. My iPod headphones keep the weirdos at bay. I listen to M83. His sound sooths my growing anxiety in the pit of my stomach. I step off at my stop, in the influx of the college/university town and the first thing I notice is—