Lime Green
“I will be late. I will be late. Mom will kill me. I will be late,” the teenage girl circled around the bus stop sign, kicking a glass bottle with her red Doc Martens.
“It’s seven minutes late. Not that bad,” a guy in a brown suit said to a guy in a black suit.
“I knew we should have taken a taxi,” the Black Suit answered.
The Brown Suit sat on the bench. The plank wobbled. He put his legs wider and leaned forward; the wobbling stopped. The Black Suit pulled out a mobile phone, covering the screen from the sun’s glare with his hand.
“If I call a taxi, we will be on time.”
“We will be on time by bus too. It’s only eight minutes.”
“Eight minutes. Eight minutes. Mom will kill me.”
The Punk Girl dropped her black messenger bag on the ground and knelt next to it. Her knee touched the ground, white fishnet stocking already torn. She lifted the bag’s flap. The patch with a circled A fell on the glass bottle. She pulled out her mobile phone.
“Fuck! Dead battery.”
She tossed the phone into the bag and closed it. The Black Suit looked at her, his gaze hung on where her white stockings met the pink leather skirt. He shook his head.
“We need a taxi. We will lose the contract. They close at five. I’m telling you we need a taxi.”
The Brown Suit stretched the cuff of his shirt with his fingers.
“Relax. It’s only twelve minutes. We still have one hour to get there.”
An ambulance passed the bus stop. Sirens blaring.
Clank. The bottle scraped against the concrete. Clank.
“Easy for you. You sold enough to get the bonus. I’m calling a taxi.”
“The boss won’t pay for this. Calm down. Fourteen minutes isn’t the end of the world.”
The Black Suit unlocked his phone. His hands shook. He tried to hit the icons.
“No. Not this. Back. Phone. Phone. Not messages.”
The phone fell from his hands. It rotated while falling and hit the ground screen-down.
“Fuck!”
The Black Suit kicked the phone, and it bounced off the pavement before hitting the curb. He walked to pick it up.
“What are you doing? It’s only fifteen minutes. How will we show the pictures now?”
“On your fucking phone!”
He bent over to pick up the phone.
“It’s fucked! Fuck!”
Clank. The glass bottle broke.
“And you… you… what are you doing here? Dressed like… like a slut!”
“Fuck off, dude!”
The Punk Girl grabbed her bag by the one strap and ran to the other side of the street. She circled a no-parking sign, looking at the Black Suit the way barking dogs look before they bite or run away.
“Fucking pervert!”
“You scared the kid.”
The Brown Suit stood up, pulled out his phone, and opened the emails app.
“She pissed me off, too. Where is that bus?”
“Mom will kill me.”
The Brown Suit swiped left and right in the email app.
“I bet it won’t be more than twenty minutes late.”
The Black Suit kicked the broken bottle.
“There is no traffic anymore. Something happened. The bus won’t come.”
Clank.
“Mom will kill me.”
The Brown Suit raised his head.
“Hey! Aren’t you too scared of mom for a punk rocker?”
The girl leaned backwards, facing the bus stop, and flipped him off with both hands.
“Fuck you, dude! Fuuuuck you, old man.”
Clank. The Black Suit kicked the broken glass onto the street.
“Shut up!”
He took two steps across the street. The Punk Girl froze. The Brown Suit put a hand on the Black Suit’s arm.
“Wait.”
The Black Suit turned towards him.
“My emails don’t refresh. No reception.”
The Black Suit stared at him. His fists clenched.
“I don’t know what happened. It worked a minute ago.”
Thud. The Black Suit punched the bus stop sign.
“Fuck this place!”
A family ran out of the house across the street. The woman opened the car door and pushed a child inside. The man dragged a suitcase behind him, a yellow dress and a pair of jeans trailing out of the bursting zipper. He dropped it into the trunk and closed it with a loud thud. He tripped and fell as he ran to the driver’s door. The Punk Girl came close to the fence and peered inside the garden. The woman opened the driver’s door from inside the car.
“Faster!” She yelled.
The man jumped into the driver’s seat, started the car, and rammed his wooden garden gate open. The gate splintered, spraying wooden shards across the asphalt. The Punk Girl jumped to the side to avoid the car.
“Fucking maniac!”
Both Suits ducked behind the bench. The car veered, then sped and disappeared down the road. Sirens blared in the distance. The Brown Suit waved his hand towards the Punk Girl.
“Hey, better wait here with us.”
The Black Suit glanced at the leather skirt’s rim. The Punk Girl hid her legs behind her bag. She pulled a pepper spray out of her pocket and squeezed it in her hand.
“Stay away from me!”
She aimed at the men across the street.
“It has one meter range. You will hurt yourself!” The Brown Suit yelled.
The Black Suit grabbed a stone and tossed it up in his hand. He stared at the Punk Girl. “Slut,” he murmured. Threw the stone into the bushes. The Punk Girl backed up behind the broken fence. Wiped her eye.
A dead pigeon fell in front of the Brown Suit. He looked up. The sky turned lime green.