Three weeks ago, about the time José started on this new route, the mystery of the “Bus Stop Sentinel” began during a particularly brutal autumn rainstorm. José had first noticed the dog shivering under the meager shelter of the plexiglass overhang. At the time, he figured the animal was just a stray seeking cover from the deluge, perhaps attracted by the warmth of the idling engines that frequented the corner.
He had even tossed a bit of his ham sandwich out the window, expecting the animal to bolt toward the food. But the dog hadn’t spared the crust a single glance. His amber eyes remained fixed on the horizon, watching the street where the buses appeared from the city center. It was a look of profound expectation, one that made the sandwich feel like an insult. José had driven away that day with a nagging feeling that he’d witnessed something private.