“On an otherwise nice and normal Monday morning, I burned to death. Rather, in the interest of full accuracy, I should say that I choked on smoke, passed out, then burned to death. But saying ‘I burned to death’ is much more dramatic, isn’t it?”


    I leaned on the bridge railings and glanced at my conversation partner, a balding mid-40s salaryman dressed in a rumpled suit paired with an even more rumpled spirit. He clutched an almost empty bottle of liquor close to his chest, vacant gaze fixed behind me on the river flowing beneath the bridge.


    I followed his gaze. The river seemed deceptively still and peaceful, reflecting the beautiful full moon hanging above us. Underneath the surface though, the current was swift and strong, capable of promptly drowning anyone unfortunate enough to fall in. I should know, we were both still soaking wet, courtesy of said river.


    “Anyway, where was I? Right, burning to death. What I’m trying to say is, drowning was a wise choice on your part. Much better than burning to death.”


    If the drunk salaryman was listening, he showed no signs of it. But that was fine. This was for me as much as it was for him.


    “I’d rather not fish you out again. Once is enough. Before I leave you to it though, I hope you’ll listen to my story. I promise I’ll leave right after. How does that sound?” I asked.


    The salaryman took a swig of alcohol in lieu of a reply, still staring at the river.


    “I’ll take that as an agreement then. Speaking of, do you mind if I take a sip too? Why did you have to pick winter of all times for a swim? No? Oh well… I guess it all started with an important meeting starting at noon and me riding a bus,” I said.


    I looked up at the moon above us. I still couldn’t get enough of the sight. “Ah. That damned bus…”


    ***


    I fidgeted nervously on the bus seat while my finger tapped the windowsill to the beat of my pacing heart. A trickle of sweat ran down my neck. I glanced at my wristwatch—10:44. It was just a battered old digital watch, not a smartwatch that was all the rage these days. Perhaps it was a bit old-fashioned for a young professional like myself, but I liked having an object with the singular and specific purpose of timekeeping.


    I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Just an hour and sixteen minutes until the defining moment of my career. An hour and sixteen minutes before I present my strategy to the board of directors and current Chief Marketing Officer. The same CMO who was due for retirement and looking for a successor. This presentation would make or break my career. Succeed, and I’d be CMO within the year. Fail, and I''d be stuck in my current position for years and years while one of my rivals ran ahead.


    I shuddered at the thought. I’d rather resign and look for another job. With the amount of bad blood between us, the one promoted would make life a living hell for the rest.


    I ran through the details of my proposed strategy once more. Everything was perfect. Of course it was. I’ve paid my dues, pulling a series of all-nighters that I’m sure had shortened my lifespan by months, if not years. I’ve poured blood, sweat, and tears to perfect this strategy in the limited time we were given. I was as prepared as I could be. I knew my plan was the best. I just had to not mess up the presentation.


    I checked the time. 10:46.


    This is torture.


    I can’t even tell if I want time to move faster or slower. I leaned back, feeling the engine vibration through the bus seat. Or perhaps I was the one trembling.


    A baby started crying in the back row. On any other day, I wouldn’t even have noticed it, lost in thoughts of work. But today… today it seemed particularly piercing. Each grating cry and wail an indictment from my nonexistent conscience. I searched my briefcase pocket for my earphones, but it wasn’t there. I’d been too distracted and rushed when I left this morning I suppose. I resigned myself to an uncomfortable ride, but fortunately, the crying baby and his mother got off at the next stop.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    In exchange, a gaggle of teenagers in school uniform boarded, whispering and joking with each other. I placed my briefcase on the empty window seat next to me to discourage company. The teenagers sat across the aisle to my left.


    One part of me envied them for their youth. Still so vibrant and full of hopes. Another part of me hated them for being too na?ve and impressionable. I knew it wasn’t fair to blame them, but I couldn’t help but wish they’d be more discerning.


    I exchanged seats with my briefcase. I wouldn’t have bothered moving on any other day. Especially if it involved me sitting near the tinted windows. But today… today the window seat doesn’t seem that bad after all. At least it put more distance between me and their joyful laughter.


    I glanced out the window, looking past my hollow-eyed reflection. The people and buildings outside blurred into one incoherent mess. I heaved a deep sigh and closed my eyes. Suddenly, it all seemed pointless. Endless meetings, all-nighters, and office politics. A never-ending stream of presentations, meaningless emails, and fake smiles.


    What am I doing? How did I get here?


    I leaned forward and cradled my head in my arms. I had entertained the thought of quitting my job countless times by now, but every time I managed to convince myself to hold on. It was too late to turn back. I have done too much, sacrificed too much, to quit now. This was the last stretch of the road to success. Just one more presentation, one more sacrifice, and I would be CMO. That should be enough to satisfy me, right? I would undoubtedly have “made it”. The current CMO earned $400k annually. How could I possibly not be considered successful when I could earn that much?


    My heart thumped painfully in my chest.


    I just needed to get myself together. This is just a minor breakdown. A nervous jitter before an important presentation. Yes. Nothing more than that.


    I breathed deeply, in and out, in and out. I was feeling much better already.


    I’m going to ace the presentation, become CMO, and succeed in life.


    "Last stop!" the bus driver shouted.


    My eyes shot open. I was the only passenger left on the bus. An impossible occurrence in this city. In the afternoon, the only deserted buses were those marked “Out of Service”. But I didn’t have the attention to note down this irregularity. I thought I just heard the bus driver call this the last stop.


    "Hey! Sir, it''s the last stop," the driver called again.


    My heart sank. I didn’t mishear him after all. I looked around at the unfamiliar buildings outside the tinted windows.


    "Where are we?" I asked.


    "Last stop. You need to get off now," the driver said.


    In a trance, I collected my briefcase and stumbled my way to the front of the bus, frantically looking for a trace of familiarity.


    "Can you tell me where we are exactly? I thought this was bus number 8?" I asked.


    "It''s number 13. Look man, just get off the bus. I still have things to do," the driver said.


    I couldn''t believe it. Did I take the wrong bus? I''m going to be late for the presentation! I opened a map app on my phone. But it wouldn''t load. There was no internet signal. Nor reception.


    How is this possible? Are the phone towers down or something? How do phones work, anyway?


    The bus driver placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sir, you need to get off now."


    "Yes, I will. Sorry, I just- where are we exactly? My phone''s acting up and I have no reception or internet. Can you just tell me where we are?"


    The driver was slowly but firmly pulling me towards the exit as I babbled. Before I knew it, I was near the front door. Looking at the driver''s annoyed expression, I knew his patience was running thin.


    "Okay, okay. I''m getting off. Please just tell me where we are. Wait no, tell me which bus I should take to reach the Stratos Tower. Just tell me that. It''s really important."


    "There''s no more bus passing through here," the bus driver said in an indifferent voice.


    "What?! It''s barely midday. What do you mean there''s no more bus?" I asked.


    This can''t be happening to me. Of all days to get on the wrong bus, it just had to be today.


    The driver tried to push me out the door, but I held on with desperate strength. This was my future at stake.


    "Wait! Wait, at least tell me how to get to Stratos tower," I said in a last bid for directions.


    The driver stopped trying to push me off the bus and pointed behind me. "Just go up this street. You''ll find what you want at the end of it."


    I turned around to look at the street he was pointing toward—an uphill, one-way street. Like the bus, it was eerily deserted.There should have been at least a couple of people walking on any given street in this city.


    Before I could ask him if he was sure, I felt a sharp shove from behind.


    I fell forward and sprawled on the sidewalk. Behind me, the bus door closed with a hiss. It rumbled away to the distance, trailing noxious smoke.


    I stared blankly at the pavement in front of my face, hardly able to process what had just happened.


    My neck flushed red with anger. I shot up to my feet and shouted my outrage at the rapidly disappearing bus.


    Soon, it was nothing but a speck on the horizon.


    "What an asshole," I muttered to myself.


    At least the anger had snapped me out of my funk. I collected my briefcase and checked the time.


    It was 11:01.


    I have less than an hour before the presentation.