Waiting (fe)line

The cat looked outside the carved glass.
A buss, is a good metaphor for life, she thought. I'm now looking back at my past, heading straight to my future. And the present sometimes is blurred and nauseating.
So many bus-stops you're not descending at.
So many traffic lights to dazzle your eyes.
So many routes you could alternative choose.
And yet, in the end, you just have to leave your seat.
And go home.