They Said Not to Follow the Bus That the Student Waiting First Gets On During the Rain

There is a small bus stop on the way home from our school.

You walk down a little from the front gate, pass the alley where the stationery store used to be, and there it is. Behind the stop, there is a low wall, and beyond that, an old villa parking lot. During the day, it is nothing special. Students sit there for a while before going to academy, someone eats a convenience-store triangle kimbap in a hurry, and on rainy days, people fold their umbrellas and splash water all over the ground.

But after school, when it rains, it feels a little different.

The school lights blur across the glass wall of the bus stop, and passing headlights slide past the side of your face. Your socks get wet under your uniform skirt, and even your bag strap turns damp. No matter how much you fix your bangs, they fall flat again.

That is why I do not look at the glass wall of the bus stop for too long on rainy days.

When I try to check my face, I end up seeing what is behind me too.

This story begins at that bus stop.

In the literature club notebook, it was written like this:

“Rainy day. Bus stop below the front gate. Student already waiting.”

Under that, in smaller handwriting, there was one more line.

“Do not ge