CW: Wrong Bus by Jing Jie (unedited)

“Oh dear, I am so late!” I grumbled as I dashed towards the bus stop opposite my house.
In my hurry, I did not realise that I was jaywalking, drivers in the cars cursed and swore, but I took no notice of them.
I ran and ran, never stopping once to catch my breath, by the time I had reached the bus stop, I was drenched in sweat, face red and rosy. I then boarded the first bus that stopped at the bus stop.
I had no time to think, only act. By then, the bus had driven off. I took a seat, gasping. Strangely, the bus was going in a different direction. Then it hit me, I was on the wrong bus!
In my hurry, I thought I took bus eighty-nine, instead, I had been taking bus seventy-two.
I immediately checked my pockets. Even worse luck, I did not bring my wallet and had used up all my change.
I asked the passengers beside me for some spare change, only to be turned down and met by stares of disapproval.
Some people turned to the others beside them and started whispering, making all sorts of strange gestures.
I calmed down and composed myself. My plan was to alight at the bus interchange and call my father from there.
As I began to feel more confident about getting out of this mess, the worst happened. The bus engine emited a thick black smoke, and it came to a sudden halt, throwing me forward. I hit my head on the steel poles, moaning in pain as crimson blood oozed out from the deep cut on my forehead.
The bus driver tried starting the engine for a couple of minutes, but to no avail. He announced, “The bus has broken down, please alight the bus, I am sorry.”
Passengers moaned as they got of the bus, while others grumbled.
I took about an hour to walk to the interchange, on the verge of giving up. At the sight of it, I pushed myself past the limit and started running to the interchange.
Crashing on the bench, I took a breather while fishing out my phone to call my father. Then I realised something, I had left my bag on the bus!
Not giving up, I checked my pockets thoroughly, finally finding one ten-cent coin. I slipped the coin into the phone booth and called my father.
As usual, he gave me a good dressing down, droning on and on about how I should be more careful next time.
I sighed, as I waited for him to fetch me home, true enough, I hate Mondays.