THE THIRD SESSION (Vol.2)
"What if I don't meet their expectations?", a voice whispered in my head. I waved it away, condemning any more negative thoughts to the recesses of my mind. I unzipped my bag to see if I had remembered to put in my uncle's picture and address. It had been a long while since I had seen him, making the two items the most important things in the bag.
As the rickety-looking bus I boarded pulled away from the town, I turned to ask the stiff-faced man sitting beside me how long it would take to reach the city. "Do I look like the driver?", he retorted, eyeing me rudely before whipping his shiny, bald head forward. I struggled to hold back a wicked response, wanting nothing to spoil my mood on the journey.
Aside from the stiff-faced man and I, it seemed as though everyone else on the bus knew each other. There was so much noise; babies wailing loudly for more breast milk, as their tired looking mothers struggled with heavy bags and wares, children crying for attention, snot and tears smeared across their chubby cheeks, women chattering about their homes, husbands and market sales and men, boisterously discussing about politics and their extraordinary adventures. I tried to sleep, an impossible task, forcing my interest to the raucous men. I quietly eavesdropped, visualising story, after story; even the tall tales weren't excluded.
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