Paterson didn't mind doing the night shift once a month, he drove the 23 bus when he did. Traffic wasn't bad during the late shift. It was always quiet and he had more time on his hand to think about new poems.

1:45am.

His shift was almost over. When he arrived at the last stop the two passengers got out from the back door. The first door opened and he was met with you, looking down at you with his hazel eyes.

“How much is the fare?" You asked.