You may be wondering why this is Part Two, but Part One is forthcoming. Be patient.
I rushed to my morning bus stop, as always, though I'm early. I dashed under the small pavilion that housed the waiting bench. It was raining. A man, maybe in his sixties, sat on the bench. He picked up his newspaper from beside him, but I always choose to stand.
I cuddled up to my hot tea and let out the day's first sigh. Ahhh. Checkpoint number one.
"Today November Nin-teen, yes?" the man turned to me. He had a thick Eastern European accent. German?
Caught off-guard, I looked at the calendar page written on the inside of my upper eyelids, "I think so." I nodded, feeling more certain, "Yes, it is."
He let it sink in, lightly bobbing his head and shoulders together with his brow straight across in thought. He looked up again.
"Rain really going down."
"Yeah." I'm not really a conversationalist in the mornings, especially after my other encounter, which I have yet to share.
"Wow," he smiled, remembering past rain. Then, slowly, "Always this time of year... ev-er-ee-body... pick out Christmas trees! Even in rain, pick out Christmas trees! Rain like this. Even rain like this."
He did not look at me as he spoke. He stared into the rain, looking through it to another street in his memory. The bus breaks broke his reverie as it reached the stop sign on the corner and began towards us.
"Ah, the bus... is here, " like a summoning charm. It stopped before us, and he motioned for me get on ahead of him.
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