It was before dawn, the darkest hour according to the saying, when the coach pulled up. I wasn’t exactly awake just there with my luggage.
I took a seat by a window and leaned against it. I couldn’t sleep with all the shaking, so I watched, trying to make something of the images sliding past: the black shapes of trees, the blur of white road markings, the clouds that formed vague and enigmatic symbols like an overly abstruse and convoluted simile.
the silhouettes of a couple merge,
she raises her hand to his face,
they part.