Eli had driven the 9:40 down Marrow Street for thirty-one winters. Now the depot was retiring the route with him. Seven nights left, then the bus stopped forever. On this first night, sleet came down hard. As he pulled from the stop, he saw an old woman in a red coat running for it, too late. Hand on the lever, Eli stopped. He never waited. Not once in thirty-one years. But he idled there, doors open, watching her run.

The woman slipped on the icy curb and went down hard, just feet from the open door. She didn't get up. Eli killed the engine, grabbed the first-aid kit, and rushed out into the sleet to her side. 'Ma'am! Can you hear me?' he called, kneeling beside her.