EACH time the bus turned a corner I stiffened myself, trying not to press against the woman sitting next to me. She was humming jerky bits of tune, stopping frequently to grin out the window at the cows in the field that moved by endlessly as the bus crawled over the ribbon of highway that stretched into the afternoon...
Sketch: Vol. 12
, Article 9.
Available at: http://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol12/iss2/9