Speed
The bus was late again for the 50-millionth time. Lindy looked disgustedly at her watch. Her stomach growled, quietly, but persistantly. When the bus roared around the corner she shook her head. I should of just walked, she thought, as the bus came to a quick stop. Climbing on and selecting her seat, she tried to avoid all the usual faces. Mentally slow, impoverished, homeless, foreign. The usual bag of tricks. With a few token normal people thrown in- college students, like herself. As the bus pressed on, she day-dreamed about being in the movie "Speed." The bus was going 50 m.p.h., and inexplicably avoiding all traffic. Soon she would take the wheel, and the man with the beard and cane up front would morph into Keanu Reeves.

The bus driver called out for transfers. They were running later than Lindy thought. "15," "18," "16," the numbers were called out from different seats. "14," she thought to herself but didn't say aloud. Being a hero requires a bit of sacrifice.