A pale, blonde woman in pink scrubs first asks my name and birthday. She has an accent that sounds Scandinavian, and she looks past the tears in my eyes as I answer her questions. She leads me down a ... [+]
My friend used to ride the midnight bus so he could spend time with his dead sister.He had been doing this for about five years, right after she was killed. Her boyfriend shot her one night over dinner. Then shot himself."I don't see her every bus ride," he explained to me. "Only at night."I was temporarily living in the guest room of his apartment when he told me all about it. My wife and I weren't seeing eye to eye, and things were beginning to unravel. He was a good friend, obviously for letting me crash at his place, but for other things, too. He donated a lot of time to various charities