The Metro Chronicles

As I look out the front door-rain. It’s light yet pounding the ground like an old Chinese proverb that has been repeated from one generation to the next. Drops of water on a rock will eventually leave it’s mark. I feel this way every time I get up and start my routine for the morning. Rub crud out the corners of my eyes, yawn, stretch a little, ask myself why I even bother showing up for work, shower, fix breakfast, wait for the bus. Eventually, I’ll make headway in time. At least this mornings ride is quiet. Did I ever tell you about the woman who sings like she is an American Idol contestant, but can’t actually carry a tune, or about the man who was eating a fruit and nut bar smacking in my ear? No? Maybe next time. Time to transfer to the next bus.

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