Bus Stations

Brixton Hill, London

If Astrid could paint in any medium, it would be orange.

Ever since she was a girl, she has found the color to be the most captivating. It reminded her of a crackling fire, or the glow of a sunset—though she might be a bit biased, her own hair being a fiery mess of bright ginger.

Astrid dipped her brush into a lighter variation of the color, before bringing it back to her canvas in the way that lungs need air. The smell of acrylic filled her nostrils and her shoulders instantly relaxed. She has always loved how art was therapeutic; no matter how stressed or anxious she was, she was able to zen out and be herself again within a matter of minutes. She was glad, because University was already making her tense, and she'd only been enrolled for a week.

Astrid swept her eyes across the room, observing her classmates as they worked on their pieces silently. A boy in the corner was throwing clay, while another girl sketched a scene in big arcs across a large canvas. The studio was full of creative people—just like her—and she felt completely in her element. She pushed her speckled round glasses farther up her nose with the back of her hand, before resuming her work.

Astrid's professor observed from over her shoulder. "Very nice, Astrid."

Astrid smiled, before her professor continued on to the next student and critiqued their work.

"God, I have taken Professor Steven's class three times in the past two years and she still doesn't know who I am." The Asian girl next to her, Lily, said. "And here you are, a first year and you are already one of her favorites."

Astrid laughed awkwardly, cleaning one of her brushes. "That's not true."

"She knows your name. No professor knows the names of their students in three days."

"It's the hair." Astrid says, trying to come up with a reason. "It's kind of, you now, out there."

Lily snorted, bringing her pencil back down to her paper. "Sure."

Astrid felt her cheeks flush, so she buried her face behind her canvas.

Three hours later Astrid walked out of class and into the heart of campus, her arms full of art supplies and notes. Her jeans and T-shirt were splattered with paint, her hair up in a messy bun with tendrils of curls framing her face and falling into her green eyes. She was anxious to get home to her small little apartment that sat in South London, and the bus only came every fifteen minutes so she'd rather be on it instead of waiting in the frigid air.

She shuffled past people as quickly as she could, balancing her work in her arms so it wouldn't fall or hit someone. She saw a break in the crowd and rushed through it, before halting at the bus stop. Astrid looked at the homework in her hands; she had only been at Uni for a week and she was already swamped with work—she swore her professors were out to get her. Plus, the sky was full of angry clouds, and she knew it would rain any minute. She pulled her work closer to her chest at the thought.

Suddenly the towering bus came into view, and she sighed in relief. Once it had stopped in front of her, she eagerly climbed the steep steps and shuffled down the aisle, searching for a seat. The bus was quite full, and the only vacant seat was next to an unusual young man with floppy turquoise hair, chipped black nail polish adorned with silver rings, and piercings in his lip and ears. He wore a tattered jean jacket with patches over a cotton white t-shirt, and ripped black trousers. His appearance alone was enough to put someone off, and as she was contemplating whether it would be better to remain standing the bus suddenly lurched forward, causing Astrid to slam into the empty chair. She collapsed into the seat, her work spilling onto her lap. Astrid smiled apologetically at the young man, trying to suppress her grimace.