[Wakley Prize Essay] Waiting for the Tireman
Adjacent to the only Starbucks in this part of the US city of Detroit, I wait for the 47 Tireman. It shows up every 50 minutes. Depending on the driver, it can arrive either 10 minutes early or 30 minutes late. The condition of the bus ranges from fairly new to rickety relic. Luckily, on this day, it’s only a few minutes late. Sadly, it is the older model, which means no air conditioning. I sit by a window and pop it open, moving to the edge of the seat to avoid mould and other suspicious stains.