We have this marvelous thing called life staring us right in the face, eye to eye. But it's like an akward conversation between strangers, like on the bus when the peculiar elderly man who reaks of whiskey chooses a seat closest to you on the barren late night bus, and you know you're his next victim of mindless uncomfortable banter. That's life, staring you right in the face, eye to eye, making your stomach flip. At least that's how I see it; life for me is that uncomfortable bus ride home.

That was also the past twenty minutes of my life, pleading silently with the bus driver to get me to my stop as fast as humanly possible. Half listening to the poor man who seeked companionship and half lost in my own inane philosophical self. A relief washed over me when the bus finally reached my stop, although I felt a tinge of guilt as the old mans words drifted away from me like soft insignificant feathers. I absentmindedly brushed my arm off as I felt the invisible feathers touch my skin and headed home.

Home was a dismal apartment on a narrow street lined with other equally horrifying apartments. Needless to say, the rent was all I could currently afford without having to resort to the cruel idea of a roomate. How I loathed the idea of having to share my living space with some obscure stranger after putting up with eighteen years under my parents roof. The idea put my stomach in knots, but of course I believe that I am not to blame for my misanthropic beliefs. No, how could I control the atrocious manner in which mankind went about their lives.

Routine rules my life, the minute i walk in the door I must put my keys away, take off my shoes and hang up everything. After that I stand in the middle of my apartment and examine everything as it is; always left in the same place, from the magazines and newspapers stacked neatly on the second to last shelf near the sofa with exactly three black pillows neatly placed to the alphabetized collection of books and movies lining the taller shelf beside the tv. Nothing was ever out of place, unless some dire emergency came along and I absolutely had to abandon my duty. Then I go over to my answering machine to check the messages, which there usually aren't many of. Tonight was apparently an exception, for the red light blinked the number one. I stared at the number for a moment as if it were the most unusal thing I had ever laid my eyes on, I had a tendancy to zone out in moments like this, which was precisely why I took the bus. I could only imagine the turmoil I'd cause as I drifted off into deep thoguht behind the wheel of a car. Giving my head a slight shake I darted my hand out and pressed the play button hearing a familiar voice: "Maddy, where have you been? I haven't heard from you in two weeks, and you haven't been returning my calls. I'm a bit worried hun. If you don't call me back soon I'm stopping by okay? Oh it's Krista by the way. Please call me," and with a click the voice floated away.