The bus that stopped for a wedding
A wedding convoy blocks the only road, and no one considers this an inconvenience.
The bus stopped. Ahead, a line of cars decorated with ribbons crawled toward a town nobody could see yet.
The driver did not honk. He turned off the engine, which seemed like a philosophical statement more than a mechanical one.
Someone produced tea from somewhere improbable — a thermos, a folding table, a genuine cup with a saucer, all materializing from the luggage compartment like a magic trick nobody had asked for.
By the time the convoy passed, forty minutes had gone, and everyone agreed this had been, on balance, a good use of the afternoon.