A Quiet Breath

the traffic was crawling, inch by inch.

the commuters stood stiff as a board, their shoulders pressed against each other in discomfort. some of them were oblivious to the surroundings, as they clung tightly to the sheets of paper in their hands and stared intently at the pages of words, muttering unintelligibly under their breath. a few of them were starting to worry, as they kept lifting their hands to glance at their watch; while some others were showing signs of exasperation, as they typed furiously on the keypad of their phones.

outside the bus, the other drivers were getting impatient too. a man in a suit had loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar; a lady was sitting beside him, with her arms crossed and lips sealed together. he opened his mouth to speak, she shot him a look of contempt, he reacted with dismay. at the right lane, a young chap was resting his arm on the window ledge, with his left hand tapping incessantly on the wheel, and his right hand holding a cigarette between his fingers. as he exhaled, the trail of smoke swirled and dispersed, scattering the cloud of tension into the calm morning air. when he finished his last puff, he tossed the stub away, closed the window and turned just in time to catch me staring.

i hurriedly looked away in awkwardness. i needed to find another distraction to get a hold of myself.

the time was 8.45 am - it was fifteen minutes to the start of my examination.