Chapter 54: GRIND NEVER STOPS

My shift ended at five-thirty.

I went to the personnel room, changed out of the work shirt, grabbed my backpack, and left through the front door. The sky was already dark and the rain had started up again, light but steady, the kind that soaked through clothes if you stayed in it long enough. I pulled my hood up and walked to the bus stop a couple of blocks away.

By the time I reached it, the rain was still coming down in a soft, constant patter. I lit a cigarette under the small shelter and leaned against the post, watching the water run off the edge of the roof.

There was only one other person waiting.

A woman sat on the bench, phone in both hands, thumbs moving quickly across the screen. Dark purple hair, almost black in the dim light, but clearly dyed, fell past her shoulders in straight, heavy strands. Her eyes were sharp, narrowed slightly even while she stared at her phone, like she was permanently annoyed at whatever she was looking at. Pale skin, black coat, black boots. She looked expensive and unfriendly at the same time.

I was almost certain I’d seen her before.

I took a long drag and tried to place the face. The hair was distinctive. The mean set of her mouth even more so. Something from the news, maybe. A local story. I couldn’t pin it down.

The bus finally rolled up, headlights cutting through the rain. I stubbed the cigarette out on the wet pavement, waited for her to board first, then stepped on last and found a seat near the middle.

The bus was half-full. A few office workers, a student with headphones, an older man near the front. The purple-haired woman took a seat two rows ahead of me on the opposite side. A man in a gray jacket sat down in the empty spot beside her a moment later, minding his own business, phone out.

Everything was quiet for maybe thirty seconds.

Then she screamed, the purple-haired one. Sharp, sudden, loud enough that half the bus flinched.

"Get the fuck off me! Pervert! You damn pervert! I felt that! I felt that, you hear!"

Every head turned.

The man beside her looked stunned, hands raised slightly like he didn’t know what was happening. "What? I didn’t..."

"He just grabbed me!" she shouted, already half-standing, pointing at him. "He put his hand on my thigh! This fucking pervert just groped me! Bastard! Stay the fuck away from me! Stay away!"

The bus driver hit the brakes harder than necessary at the next light and twisted around in his seat. "What’s going on back there?"

"This guy just touched me!" Her voice was pure outrage, loud and clear for everyone to hear. "I want him off the bus! Now!"

The man looked around, face going red. "I didn’t touch her. I was just sitting here. I swear!"

"Don’t lie!" She pulled her coat tighter around herself like she’d been violated. "Everyone saw it. He slid his hand right up my leg."

No one had seen it. I had a clear view of both of them the entire time. His hands had stayed on his phone. He hadn’t even shifted toward her. But the way she was performing it, the volume, the pointing, the way she made sure the whole bus was watching, made the truth irrelevant.

People started murmuring. A woman near the front muttered something about "always the quiet ones." Someone else said the driver should call the cops. The accused man kept trying to explain, voice rising with panic.

"I never touched her. Look, I was on my phone the whole time. Ask anyone, please!"

"Get him off!" she snapped. "I’m not riding with a fucking molester."

The driver, clearly not interested in sorting out the truth, opened the doors and pointed at the man. "You. Off. Now. Sort it out with the police if you want, but you’re not staying on my bus."

The man looked around one last time, searching for anyone who might back him up. No one did. He grabbed his bag, face burning, and stepped out into the rain. The doors hissed shut behind him.

The purple-haired woman sat back down, smoothed her coat, and returned to her phone like nothing had happened.

I stared at the back of her head.

The memory finally clicked.

I’d seen her on the local news a few months back. Different coat, same purple hair, same sharp eyes. She’d accused a university student of groping her on a different bus and of trying to take photos up her skirt. The guy had been suspended, dragged through an investigation, and publicly dragged online before the cameras on the bus proved he’d never touched her and never even pointed his phone in her direction. The story had quietly disappeared after that. No apology. No follow-up.

She’d done it before.

And from the calm way she sat there now, scrolling like the whole thing had been a minor inconvenience, she was doing it again.

I stayed quiet.

The bus pulled away from the stop, rain streaking down the windows, and the man she’d just ruined was already disappearing into the wet dark behind us.

I leaned back in my seat and kept my eyes on her reflection in the glass.

Interesting.

She crossed one leg over the other, smoothed her coat, and went right back to her phone like nothing had happened.

I stared at the back of her head.

Fucking degenerate.

And I thought I was a bad person. The guy using a system to break marriages, pay for sex, and climb over people. But looking at her, sitting there completely unbothered after she just ruined some random man’s evening for entertainment, put things in a different light. She hadn’t even hesitated. The lie came out clean and she clearly enjoyed the power of it.

I shook my head and turned toward the window.

The rain was still coming down, but the temperature had dropped. The drops hitting the glass were starting to look thicker. Snow would be here before the night was over. Guaranteed.

Today’s Endurance quest was already going to be rough: five kilometers and thirty push-ups across four sets. Doing that outside in this weather, with nothing warmer than what I was already wearing, wasn’t realistic. Running in the freezing rain-turned-snow sounded like a good way to get sick.

I groaned under my breath, shut my eyes, and leaned back against the seat.

Just get home. Then figure it out.

??????????

I got off at my stop and walked the short distance to the gas station first. Inside the market I grabbed a pack of cigarettes, paid, and stepped back out into the cold. The rain was already mixing with soft flakes of snow that melted the moment they touched the pavement.

My building came into view at the end of the street, the same ugly concrete block I’d been stuck in for months. Even from a distance it looked tired.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Karim.

I almost ignored it. The only reason I still had his number was because he’d insisted on exchanging them the first week I moved in. Back when I still thought being polite to the neighbors might matter.

I answered while continuing toward the building.

"What."

"Hey, Chance." His voice was careful, almost polite. "Look... I wanted to apologize again for the other night. I was out of line. Really. I shouldn’t have acted like that."

"You already said that."

"I know. Just... wanted to make sure you heard it when I wasn’t still half-drunk and pissed off."

I didn’t answer right away. The snow was starting to stick to my shoulders.

"Yeah," I said finally. "Got it."

There was a short pause on his end.

"You’re heading home now, right? Not going anywhere else tonight?"

I glanced up at the building as I reached the front steps. "Yeah. I’m home."

"Alright. Cool. Good to know. Talk later, Chance."

He hung up before I could reply.

I stared at the phone for a second, then slipped it back into my pocket. Something about the question sat wrong, but I was too cold and too tired to dig into it right now.

I pushed open the heavy front door, stepped into the narrow hallway, and turned right. My flat was only a few steps from the entrance, convenient and depressing in equal measure. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and shut out the cold.

The apartment was quiet. Same small space. Same thin walls. Same everything.

I stood there for a moment, just breathing, then walked to the kitchen sink and washed the city off my hands. When I finished I opened the system interface without sitting down.

The Endurance quest was still waiting. Five kilometers. Thirty push-ups. Four sets. Outside was no longer an option. That left the limited floor space of my own apartment.

I exhaled through my nose and rolled my shoulders. "Grind never stops, huh?"