I’m sitting on a bench at the bus terminal, waiting. This girl in a green sweater with tired eyes but a kind of energy in her face walked by and stood a few feet away, occasionally looking over at me. I pretended not to notice her, vacantly staring ahead with my headphones on (my default). She does this weird thing where she shakes her head forward, almost like a metal-head, letting her hair fall forward and open. A few minutes pass of this, me pretending not to see her glance over periodically, when the bus arrives. We get on. She sits in the shotgun seat behind the driver, me a little further back. The bus rolls through its route, clockwork, I’ve been here before. We come upon a bridge, and the girl in the green sweater isn’t glancing at me anymore. The bus just reaches the highest part of the bridge when the girl in the green sweater stands up and leans on the rail next to the driver. She springs forward and yanks the wheel to the left, hard. The driver’s hand raises a second too late. And then it’s too late. There are two loud shaking thumps as one and then both of the front wheels smash over the meridian curb, and then the bus starts it’s flip in slow-motion. I catch my reflection in the opposite window, I’m falling backwards into the window behind me, and it looks almost fun; like I’m jumping backfirst into black water. The engine on the bus roars crazily; a back tire spinning unencumbered sounds like a bomb winding down. The last thing I remember is the girl in the green sweater.