Arthur worked route 36—the bastard route—two hours, five schools and flat, straight boring roads. Liz worked it too. She’d asked for it so they could wave to each other. Without that pleasure Arthur tended to bring his bus-driver crankiness home. A couple of passing cheerios was all it took for his demeanour to be altogether more pleasant.
Arthur asked Lex to show him how to reprogram the destination sign. One afternoon, he set it up so he could change it as soon as he saw Liz’s bus approaching. As he crossed High Street he saw her pull out. He flicked a switch. Marry Me? flashed at her.
Crazy bugger, she thaught. She pulled up between stops, ran across to him and kissed him to the cheers of both busses’ passengers.
It would have been perfect except Arthur had been put on a warning for it. Honestly, he thaught, as he trudged to Doug’s office. No sense of humour, some people. No sense of romance.
He knocked, wondering what he’d say. ‘Come in,’ said Doug. He pushed the door open. Everyone was there. Doug and Lex and all the guys. And Liz, with a beer already poured for him.
small stories about love 