L'autobus

It is just over three weeks that I have been living in Chatenay-Malabry. I have determined that if I leave my studio apartment by 7:39 on my alarm clock, I can get out the gate in time to see the bus when we are both 50 meters from the stop. I end up having to run half the distance, half of the days. I take the 195 six stops to the Robinson RER. The RER is an extension of the Paris Metro. At the Robinson I wait less than five minutes for the 294 which takes me another eight stops to Chatillon. In Chatillon I start work at 8:20 in an industrial park of sorts.

I have begun to recognize some of my fellow commuters. Today on the 195 I saw a young man of perhaps 17 or 18 years of age, potentially of Algerian decent. He always dresses professionally but he is not from an affluent family as I conclude from his attire. His attire has an air of being worn now by a second generation. His shoes are black leather. Pressed kaki pants, a white sweater and a brown suit coat that is a couple of sizes too large complete his outfit. He carries with him a leather briefcase with a flap closure. It sat between his legs as he held onto the pole. He disappeared as he exited at the Robinson.

On the 294 I sat across from a young woman about my age. Last time she was carrying a similar paper "etam" bag. "etam" is a designer label that has stores in every shopping center. Once the bus starts moving she pulls out a small circular mirror that she uses to check her lipstick and eye make up. She ruffles her long dark kinky hair. The ends of her hair is bleached as though from the sun. She puts away the mirror and ruffles her hair once more. Her nail polish is a dark red and always wears pointed toe leather heals with blue jeans. Unlike many of the young and fashionable, she does not have music wired to her ears. Today she stared at a spot in the air somewhere between us with her lips tight but one corner raised in an expression of, "I will determine the solution to the dilemma in my head." I always get off the bus before she does.