taco Man

On the bus ride home, we stopped and picked up a man from Taco Johns. As I sit next to the window, the aisle seat is open next to me. Taco man sits next to me. He puffy black coat is touching my arm. It's a little un-nerving but I don't want to flinch and upset him. He looks down at the goat sitting in my lap. I keep looking out the window. The strong stench of oily cheap tacos hangs fresh in the air.

Sick.