Daybreak seeped through the part in the curtains in a greasy blue stroke. The phone alarm roused Robin for his morning routine. Between moving from the bed to the toilet, his muscles groaned. The ensuing hot shower helped alleviate some of the soreness. As Robin paced around the room, waiting for the testosterone cream applied to his abdomen to dry, his eyes kept darting to the clock. He had a bus to catch.

Per the instructions on his paper receipt, Robin dropped his motel key into the mail slot of the main office before heading out into the hazy morning. The rain had stopped late in the evening, leaving behind puddles slick with motor oil. The only rainbows to be found swirled in the pools beneath a pale sky.

Meeting the glazed sun erased some of the fear Robin carried from the previous night. Though it felt like a dream once he awoke in the motel bed, the splinters in his hands were all too real. With the aid of full daylight, he pinched these minute testimonies from his skin. The lingering pinprick aches would soon leave him, too.

With directions from his phone, Robin navigated from the motel down a couple of blocks to find the bus station. It was an unremarkable building, compact and gray, but no buses were arriving or departing from the stretch of asphalt laid before it. Robin milled outside for a bit, craning his neck to spot any approaching vehicles. He checked the time on his phone. A few more minutes passed before he entered the little building. Stepping past shelves of snacks and travel accessories, Robin found a counter with a sleepy clerk gazing at a romance novel.

The young man cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but isn’t the next northbound bus supposed to be here by now? Did I miss it?”

The clerk glanced up from her book. “You mean the Pacific Express? It’s changed to a biweekly service. Next one will come Thursday at 9:15 am.”

Robin grumbled, “Great, I have to wait two whole days.”

“No. Thursday of next week. Do you need me to print you a ticket?”

The counter listed before Robin’s eyes as though the floor swelled. “Next week? But I thought it comes through twice a week here.”

She raised a brow. “It’s biweekly as in every other week.”

Robin flushed as he brought out the e-mail receipt generated a month ago on his phone. His hand trembled as he checked the date on the receipt against what his phone displayed.

The clerk had her acrylic nails poised to ring up a new ticket on her computer.

Robin bit his lip. “Oh, m-my mistake. Thanks for clarifying …” He then pivoted on his heel and left the counter.

With shock injected into his veins, Robin stiffly walked to the nearby strip mall. He hoped for a place where he could simply sit and process his options. There was a barbershop, an insurance office, a mini-mart, and a café—Dottie’s. A glimmer passed his eyes. At least he could have a good meal while panic planning.

Shooting a straight line toward the café, he took the time to curse at himself and the shoddy bus website. He didn’t have enough money to stay in this town until next Thursday, and he couldn’t exchange his ticket for anything coming sooner that would take him anywhere near where he needed to go. Roiling from the new development, his stomach nearly convinced him to abandon the café entirely, but he was already under its sign.

Just as Robin reached for the door to enter Dottie’s, it swung open. He met face to face with salt and pepper scruff.

“Oh, Robin!” Dusty hopped backward so as not to accidentally smash his takeout container into the young man’s chest.

“Dusty! Shit. Funny running into you here.”

“Yeah.” The older man rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped out of the way of the door.

“Not dining in?” Robin asked, masking his distress.

Dusty rubbed his thumb along the plastic in his hands. “Dottie sent me along with this. Didn’t want me hanging around in case trouble comes.”

“I guess word gets around quick here.”

Dusty nodded before focusing on the young man again. “Uh, did your bus not come?”

Robin’s gaze fell to the concrete sidewalk. “The schedule—it’s stupid. Or I’m stupid.” His eyes traced the shapes of petrified gum stains. “The bus isn’t coming until next Thursday.”

“Gosh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

Robin scratched his head, fingers raking for intangible solutions. With each passing second, another thread unwound in his resolve, fraying, separating, prey for hysteria. He ground his teeth to keep them from chattering.

“I-I don’t know if I can wait until next week,” uttered the young man. “Ugh, hitchhiking is illegal, isn’t it? But I don’t know what else to do.” His brows verged on colliding and tangling together. “I have to get to Seattle soon.”

The corner of Dusty’s mouth twitched. “I—”

He knew the look of desperation. Normally the older man could ignore the pleas of strangers, but he had already invited Robin to parts of his life few were privy to. Exposing that side of himself to the young man forged a connection between them, whether he wanted it or not. And as it stood currently, the town was unfriendly to them both. He fought back a grimace as his chest pinched.

“I could probably take you.”