“Where is the bus, mom?” you ask. “It’s on its way, dear”, she says. You look down the road, as far as the bend. It’s evening. You see other buses go by. Each time, you look up at your mom in hope. Each time, she shakes her head, “Patience, dear”.
It’s night now. Fewer vehicles pass by. You see them first by their headlights from around the bend. Maybe it’s this one. No, it’s not. Maybe, it’s this other one then. Still not. You want to get back to your video game. “One, two, three…” you start counting each car that goes by. You learn to tell vehicles from their headlights. You see the headlights of a bus. But it’s still not your bus. You want to know what happens to the Elves in the game. Your mom is calm. Or seems calm. You wonder if you found all the treasures in the game’s previous scenario. “…Fifteen, sixteen…”, it goes on.
The bus arrives. You’re finally heading home. It hopefully won’t be long. Where is home? Where are you? “One, two, three…” you start counting the intersections. It’s unfamiliar outside. Are you heading home? The bus continues. Houses go by. Neighborhoods go by. You don’t remember it being this far from home. Or is the bus just slow? Why didn’t you keep track of things on the way out? What was the count? 22, or 23? You look to your mother. She’s asleep. You look outside again. It’s still unfamiliar. Or maybe the bus is taking a different route. Maybe you’re actually just behind the house. Or maybe you missed the stop! You wake your mom. She irritably tells you it’s still twenty minutes away.
You look at her watch. It’s 8:12. You stop counting the intersections: you now know how much more time it will be. Your mind wanders. You think of replaying the previous scenario to get a higher bonus. You look back outside. The houses are bigger now, fancier. Still unfamiliar. Your mom is back to sleep. You look at her watch. It’s just 8:15. No, 8:16 now. You slam back into your seat. Squirm about a bit. Lay your head against the glass. You start doodling on the mist from your breath. You look back at the time. 8:17.
The bus gets onto the freeway. You don’t remember the freeway being on the route. What were you thinking about on the way out? Your mom wakes up. “How much farther?” you ask. Your mom looks out, thinks a bit, then says, “4 more exits and then we’ll be pretty much home.” You start counting the exits now. One goes by. You look up at the freeway signs. Two miles till the next exit. Cars are passing the bus. Why can’t the bus go faster? A mile and a half till the next exit now. You think of which weapon you’d level-up next in the game. You look around the bus. Everyone is relaxed. Only your legs are dangling off the seat. And swinging. Some people are talking. Something about someone liking someone. You make eye contact with another person. They make a face at you. Why do strangers like making faces at you? You don’t react to them. They look away. You look out the window. Another exit goes by. How many more? Why didn’t you just look out and count? One more mile to the next one. Hopefully the last one. You recognize a building in the distance. It’s visible from your bedroom window. You’re getting close now.
The bus gets off the freeway. The neighborhood is still unfamiliar. The building you recognize is hidden behind some trees. The bus turns, and it’s now on the other side. You look across the bus. A man smiles at you. You don’t react again. The building is behind him now. You crane your neck to look around him. He’s too tall. He looks behind, out his window. He looks back at you, confused. You look out your window again. How far is your house from the building? Is it on this side of the building or the other?
Your mom nudges you, “Our stop is next, dear”. Finally! The shops outside look familiar now. It should be just another five minutes. Or maybe six. Hopefully not ten. The bus pulls over. You’re already off your seat. Your mom slides out, and you hold her hand as you get off. You glance at her watch. It’s 8:40. Why did the bus have to be so slow! Or did your mom lie about how long it would take? You run ahead of her, trying to pull her along. Why won’t she keep up?
From the gate, you run up the driveway. You reach the door, but don’t have the keys. You can’t reach the doorbell. You start knocking. Your mom is leisurely strolling up the driveway. You start pounding on the door. “Relax, I have the keys!” Your mom calls out. You already have your hand on the doorknob. She has to reach over you to unlock the house.
Finally, you’re in. You run up the stairs to your room. You trip on a stair, but regain your balance. The computer needs to boot up. Why is it called “booting” up anyway, you wonder. Maybe it’s like getting ready to go out. The progress bar inches forward. You’re tapping on Spacebar. On other random keys. More vigorously as it advances bit by bit.
You open up the game, and resume from where you left off. You play it efficiently, and in five minutes, you finish the scenario. It turns out that it was the last in the game.
Before you realized what was happening, it was over.
And now, there is nothing to look forward to.