Meanwhile, Sarah stepped up onto the musty Greyhound, relieved as she reminded herself that this would be the last time. No more late night rides home in a half-drugged state, fighting dizziness and the urge to vomit everywhere. No more faces staring at her, curiously wondering what was wrong with her or why she looked so… bad. Was she sick? Maybe it was contagious? Could it be an epidemic?

Tonight, the bus was more crowded that usual. Each seat was stuffed with the soiled and exhausted. Looking down the dirt caked aisle, she settled herself next to an elderly man in the back. She did her best to conjure up a polite smile.

"You okay, little lady?" the man asked, his face a tangle of furrows that showed the extent of his years. Sarah hesitated, not quite sure how to answer. Her creativity had failed her, or maybe she realized that not even the hood around her head could hide her pale, tearstained skin and sunken, tired eyes.

She thought about her reply before she came up with, "I will be."