If her father hadn’t been ill, and the dog hadn’t barked, and her brother hadn’t screamed all through the night, she would’ve still been in bed. But since she was up, she made breakfast, and having eaten she set off for the bus.
“’Bye Sweetie. Take care.”
Same as any other day.
The headlamps, white against the dawn’s trailing light, slithered lazily, sleepily over the tree-lined streets like a snake sizing its prey. They bobbed and swayed in hollows and ruts, hypnotizing with the engine’s stuttering roar.
Then teeth beneath them opened wide. An ordinary day no more.