In the very back of the bus the whine of the engine was a serenade.
Dieter liked the vibrations, too.
This bus was clean, too clean, new, some sort of green machine that probably cost the city a fortune and was supposed to save a planet that probably couldn’t be saved. It barely whispered.
Two guys got on at Harper, mid conversation.
The bus was so goddamn quiet Dieter could hear the one guy peel back the wrapper of his chocolate bar.
Dieter tuned out the conversation but somehow the conversation grabbed his mental knob and dialed it in without his permission.
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