In the seat pocket of the last bus, Mirza found a key with a yellow pear attached. He handed it to the dispatcher, Hana, expecting the usual complaint about running late. Instead, she rose so suddenly that her chair rolled against the wall. She recognized the key ring of a woman who traveled every evening to the bakery she cleaned. Without the key, she could not enter the apartment where her mother was bedridden.
The woman had no telephone number in their records. Hana knew only her stop and her habit of carrying empty cloth bags. Mirza offered to drive her in the staff minibus. Hana completed the authorization first, as carefully as ever. He laughed. For months he had called her the queen of paperwork, quietly enough to believe she had never heard him behind the glass.
The bakery was locked, but a light burned in the basement. They called through the delivery opening until a baker emerged dusted with flour. The cleaner had gone to a neighbor to borrow a phone. He gave them an address opposite the old clinic. On the way, Hana admitted she disliked night journeys because her father had been injured on a bus. That was why she examined every report he submitted about braking.
Mirza slowed down although the street was empty. He said he ran late because he waited for an older passenger who struggled down the stairs of his building. He had never recorded it, fearing they would cancel the already unpopular service. Hana watched his profile in the dashboard light. Their arguments suddenly acquired a different arrangement: they were not on opposing sides, they simply lacked all the information about the same journey.
They found the key's owner outside her entrance, wearing someone else's oversized coat. When Mirza handed her the yellow pear, she pressed it against her cheek. She invited them for coffee, but Hana said they needed to return before the morning shift. Only in the minibus did Hana notice that she was shaking. Mirza offered her his water bottle, without the joke he usually used to fill any uncomfortable silence.
The next day, Hana proposed moving the departure four minutes later and attached the passenger's actual arrival time. Mirza brought her two coffees. On hers, he wrote his route number, then crossed it out and added his telephone number. Hana turned the cup toward him. She said she did not make schedules on Saturdays and would like a walk without an official authorization. Mirza promised to arrive on time. For the first time, she had no reason not to believe him.