‘I’m delivering bathroom happiness,’ a truck told me, while I was waiting for the train.
I smiled up at it. ‘And how might you do that?’
He didn’t reply: he merely sped towards the horizon. And, as he did so, I caught sight of the double doors at his rear, painted with a name in cursive script I couldn’t quite make out at free-flow traffic speed.
And I could not help but wonder if my chance at an unknown happiness had passed me by on the freeway while I was waiting for the train.