Note

Rain. Silence. The city was strangely quiet that evening. Even the streetlights were dim, as if conserving energy. You were standing alone at the bus stop; the last bus was late. Suddenly, you noticed the electronic board flicker, and instead of the route number, the word "WAIT" appeared. You thought it was a glitch, but a few seconds later you heard a rustling sound behind you.

You turned around - no one was there. Only the wind rustled the piece of paper at your feet. You picked it up. And there, in your handwriting, was written: "Don't get on the first bus. "

My heart skipped a beat. You knew it—you didn't write it. The bus pulled up, the doors opened, it was dark inside, and the driver didn't look up.

People were coming in as if in a dream, you remembered the note and stepped back. The doors closed, and the bus departed. And at that moment, the board lit up again with the normal route number. When you boarded the next bus and looked out the window, the stop was empty except for one thing: the note was lying on a bench, and the wind blew it onto the road, into the wet slush left by the rain.

While you were sitting in your seats, waiting for your stop, a young man approached you. His gaze was confused and somewhat frightened. You didn't understand what he wanted from you. But after about two seconds, he asked in a quiet, fear-choked voice:

"Did you also...just see that dark bus that arrived after the sign flashed and the word 'WAIT' sounded?" His voice broke on the last word, sending shivers down your spine.

Coincidence? Paranoia? No... Something much worse... And you were afraid of its consequences, what if this bus comes again, and you, without thinking, get on it, not even suspecting what could happen.