This week's picture prompt was taken by Elliot Erwitt, a famous French/American photographer. This particular photois up in the Tate gallery's website. It is called Bus Stop, London 1952.
Short and sweet this week. It started as one thing but then ended as another. But I quite like it.
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Big Car
He had no idea what they were doing standing there. More of them kept gathering but he couldn’t work it out. Then he heard one of them speak.
‘Do you know if the number 9 has been?’
‘Not seen it yet, love. Hopefully it’ll come soon.’
His eyes opened wide, as he looked down on them from his window above. What was ‘number 9’? He had no idea. Then someone else arrived.
‘This the right one for the 58?’
They all looked up at the post that had a board with squiggles on.
‘No, I think it’s the one over there.’ One of them pointed at another post across the road.
‘Ah, okay, thanks.’
They left the group and crossed the road working to avoid the fast moving cars.
One of them looked at a strange dial on their wrist and said to the other, ‘It’s definitely late. They won’t be happy at the office.’
The other nodded. ‘It’s so frustrating when that happens.’
They stopped talking as they watched a big red double-tall car approach and stop. An opening at the back allowed them to climb on as they handed something to someone standing inside. Then he watched it pull away.
Johnny pulled his head back in from the window and turned to his mama. He pointed, and said, ‘People on big car!’
‘Yes, that’s the bus, Johnny.’
‘Bus,’ he said. ‘Number 9.’
His mum gasped. ‘Johnny! Did you just say number 9? Oh my! What a clever boy! Not many boys can read numbers at two and half! Come here and give mama a cuddle.’
She picked him up and cuddled him. He giggled. He liked cuddles from mama.
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