The drone of the bus motor, working its way up the steep incline, grated on her nerves. The harder Nina tried to secure a sliver of silence, the louder the noises beeped, hissed, and clanged, and the bus radio blared.
At the bus stop on Rechov Yehezkel, the double doors slammed open and descending passengers pushed their way out. Through the window, Nina watched a crowd of school-age children out on the sidewalk, waiting to board, along with several mothers with strollers.
Her own mothering days were decades ago. She’d long ago concluded that she had lived a comfortable life in the state she liked to call Merryland.
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