Inner monologue the other day: "An empty blue hallway. Six blue doors open simultaneously, and out they come. The people are going to their jobs, in their clothes. The dead cat on the sidewalk is trampled by their incoming shoes. Lights come into sight over the top of the hill, and through mist a roaring mass appears. The bus is desolate. The driver still yet announces location. Ambition and purpose, meaning and attempt is no longer relevant. It's just them, on their bus, going to their job, in their clothes."I know what you're thinking, I must have been depressed when I was on the bus. I don't think so though, I was just being cynical and entertaining myself with what I saw in an internally verbally descriptive way.
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