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.

Just as the woman reached the door, a younger man in a depot jacket stepped off the curb. It was Marcus, the supervisor, doing a surprise ride-along. He'd seen the whole thing. 'You waited,' Marcus said flatly, climbing aboard behind her. 'You know the rule.' Eli's stomach dropped.

Eli faced Marcus. 'She'd have stood in the sleet for thirty minutes. I had ten seconds to spare.' Marcus crossed his arms. 'Rules are rules, Eli. I have to write you up.' Eli nodded slowly. 'Then write it up. But I'm waiting for her every night this week.'

Marcus wrote the report, but he added a note of his own at the bottom: 'Driver showed sound judgment.' Eli never knew. The write-up vanished into a drawer, and Eli drove his final six nights exactly as he wanted, waiting for anyone who needed the bus.