There were always seats on the bus leaving twenty minutes after midnight, but Hana sat by the middle door. It helped her stay awake. She worked at a laboratory specimen reception desk, and after a shift the city seemed to move more slowly than her eyes. The man boarding two stops later carried white kitchen shoes in a clear bag. He never sat beside her until one evening rainwater covered the other seats beneath an open roof window.
"I don't snore," he said before sitting. "My head just drops sometimes."
Hana laughed. His name was Armin, he cooked at a hotel, and he claimed he couldn't look at another potato after ten at night. She admitted eating precisely that at home because she could reheat potatoes without thinking. They talked until her stop. The next evening, he sat beside her again, this time asking whether she wanted conversation. Some days, she didn't. Then they watched the windows without trying to turn silence into an insult.
Over winter, they learned more about each other than people usually reveal on a first date. Hana worried about a younger sister struggling with independence. Armin was learning to live with his adult son, who had temporarily returned home. Both needed quiet, yet looked forward to the same brief conversation. One evening, Hana missed her stop. She didn't claim to have been distracted. She said she hadn't wanted to get off.
In March, Armin received a day shift. He delivered the news with a smile that faded as he watched her face. Hana congratulated him and said he could finally sleep normally. She didn't add that she would miss him. He didn't request her number because he thought their acquaintance suited her only while it asked for nothing. On their final shared ride, they sat too politely, like passengers who had just met.
Before her stop, Hana stood, then sat again. "Could we meet when neither of us is coming from work?" she asked. Armin produced his phone so quickly that his shoe bag fell beneath the seat. They arranged Sunday breakfast. Hana chose somewhere near the park without calculating how many stops they had for conversation. He promised to arrive in shoes he wouldn't need to carry separately.
On Sunday, both arrived too early. In daylight, they seemed different, younger and less certain. Armin ordered potatoes with his eggs, and Hana laughed before he could explain. After breakfast, they walked until the park filled with people. When he offered his hand, she took it without checking the time. A bus passed on the street behind them, empty and entirely unnecessary.