The other was a man in a black windbreaker and a black scarf, wearing a face mask.
He was bundled up tight and would cough occasionally, as if he had a cold.
Just as the bus was about to start moving.
A voice suddenly called out from the side.
"Driver... wait... wait up!"
The shout was jarring on the silent street.
Everyone on the bus turned toward the sound.
A bare-chested figure had appeared out of nowhere and was now slapping a hand against the bus window.
"Dri...ver, o...open the door. I need to get on."
His words were slurred and indistinct.
The driver said nothing and simply opened the door.
The man staggered aboard.
He was a balding, middle-aged man of about fifty.
The man was shirtless, sporting a beer belly, and his face was flushed. He had clearly been drinking heavily.
He reeked of alcohol, and judging by his unsteady, swaying steps, he was completely plastered.
Seeing this, the other passengers frowned.
They watched the man warily.
