Going home
boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags dreaming of golden
beaches and sea tides as the gray, cold spring of New York vanished behing them.
As the bus passed through New Jersey ,they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front them ,
dressed in a plain,ill-fitting suit,never moving ,his dusty face masking his age .He kept
chewing the inside of his lip a lot ,frozen into complete silence.