FADE IN:
EXT. OLIVEHURST AVE MORNING
The sunlight has just shown itself, lighting the street. COMMON, a young man in a grocery uniform, sits by the bus stop. His breathing can be seen in the cold air.
COMMON (V.O.)
This is the story of my life. I want
to tell you about grandiose feats,
about momentous events and great deeds,
but there has never been much in this
small town to mesmerize you with.
An early morning car clearly headed for work rolls by and COMMON looks up to see the driver, a man in his thirties looking straight ahead, focused.
COMMON (V.O.)
(continuing)
I don’t know his name but every day I
usually see him about this time. 7:30.
The bus arrives, stops, and opens its door. The BUS DRIVER, a woman in her forties, smiles her usual exuberant smile as she stares down the steps of the door.
BUS DRIVER
Good morning COMMON.
COMMON fakes his smile while climbing the steps; his only response to her being a nod. Popping in two quarters:
COMMON (V.O.)
That was the bus driver lady. Everyday
it’s always the same “good morning” to
whomever got on her bus. I don’t know
her name and the morning shift is the
only time I see her.
The bus is mostly empty except for the four people there; an OLD WOMAN in thrift clothing, looking blankly out the window.
COMMON (V.O.)
That old lady has always been on this
bus. She was here before me and
COMMON (V.O.)
(continuing)
probably will still be after I’m gone.
Just an old woman who keeps to herself.
TWO YOUNG WOMEN dressed also in some sort of work uniform, both talking in a low unintelligible tone. Clearly occupied in their conversation.
COMMON (V.O.)
a middle-aged man. COMMON heads to the back of the bus and sits. The seat is slightly worn.
COMMON (V.O.)
This is where I always sit. It’s
my spot on the bus. You see everyone
of us has their spot that they always
sit in. It’s almost an unspoken rule.
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