not much chance,

completely cut loose from

purpose,

he was a young man

riding a bus

through North Carolina

on the wat to somewhere

and it began to snow

and the bus stopped

at a little cafe

in the hills

and the passengers

entered.

he sat at the counter

with the others,

he ordered and the

food arived.

the meal was

particularly

good

and the

coffee.

the waitress was

unlike the women

he had

known.

she was unaffected,

there was a natural

humor which came

from her.

the fry cook said

crazy things.

the dishwasher.

in back,

laughed, a good

clean

pleasant

laugh.

the young man watched

the snow through the

windows.

he wanted to stay

in that cafe

forever.

the curious feeling

swam through him

that everything

was

beautiful

there,

that it would always

stay beautiful

there.

then the bus driver

told the passengers

that it was time

to board.

the young man

thought, I'll just sit

here, I'll just stay

here.

but then

he rose and followed

the others into the

bus.

he found his seat

and looked at the cafe

through the bus

window.

then the bus moved

off, down a curve,

downward, out of

the hills.

the young man

looked straight

foreward.

he heard the other

passengers

speaking

of other things,

or they were

reading

or

attempting to

sleep.

they had not

noticed

the

magic.

the young man

put his head to

one side,

closed his

eyes,

pretended to

sleep.

there was nothing

else to do-

just to listen to the

sound of the

engine,

the sound of the

tires

in the

snow.