Lost Signal

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                                                                        Lost Signal

                                                               Written By: Raymond Roberts

Alone and waiting, that was how Helen Kent felt most of the time. She never really had friends to lean on when times were hard. Family was not much help after her dad killed himself and her mother was a raging alcoholic. 

Today she waited for the bus to reach the stop on 31st and Gibson Street. She

never really liked living in the city yet that was the only way she could make a living. Never being a pretty girl, she stuck to studying and learning, anything and everything she could. 

She snatched up a job as telemarketer in school and stuck with it. This was the

pavement she needed to move up the corporate ladder, even though it was not a very high ladder to climb. She would have to settle for a simple marketing supervisor which paid no more then she made now, only there was no other place for her in the company. 

The bus always ran late on Fridays. This made sense to her, people would be getting out of work and want to meet up for drinks and casual conversations. They just wanted to drowned away they work week blues. This was something else that she never had, was people that cared. 

Sitting and waiting for the bus would be her highlight of the day. This is how she 

wanted it to be; at least that is what she would tell herself. It was easier to face denial then come to terms with the fact that no one cared for her in the way that so many cared for others in the movies, shows and books she read. She may have not had that special someone in her life to care for her; however that did not stop her from dreaming about it. 

Since her social life was nonexistent, she enjoyed watching the people come in and out of the stores and listen to the people as they walked by. Some of their conversations were raunchy and obscure, yet none of it ever seemed to bother her. She would listen in to all the gossip she could take in at one time. Even though she never had anyone to tell the stories she overheard, she would tell the only thing in her life that would listen, her diary.

Her diary was the master of all secrets and if the right person got their hands on it, they could do some real damage to someone. She also liked to think this thought from time to time, making her feel more important than she was or at least felt. 

She stood up as the bus approached from the south of Gibson. She made sure that her bag was in hand and her umbrella that she grabbed just in case it rained. If there were even a two percent chance of rain, she would grab her umbrella. She never liked sitting in the rain whether or not there was juicy gossip to listen to. 

The bus came to a halt as the air breaks released there pressure. A metal creaking followed and the sound of the rubber flaps that lined the door relieved pressure as well as the doors opened. She normally looked at the bus as her own personal limo pulling up to her taking her to here casa on the hill. Yet she did not live in the hills, in fact there were no hills on the ride to here rundown house that sat in a half way descent neighborhood. 

The bus driver and the other occupants of the bus were honored to share the bus with her, even though they could care less that she was on the bus or not. It seemed as if not one person noticed her getting on or off the bus. 

As she walked through the tide of people to reach a seat, her cell phone vibrated. She scrambled through her bag to get it and answer the call. Normally the vibration would be followed by Mozart's ninth symphony; however, the new transportation laws forbid the use of ring tones on the bus. Apparently, it was too much for the bus drivers to listen to all day epically with the many different sounds that the phones made now days. She was happy to comply with the policy.