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Engine rumbling, you grip the wheel as another crowd surges toward your bus—backpacks, shopping bags, and impatient glances. Your foot hovers over the brake. The fare counter’s red digits blink **47/50**. Three seats left, but eight bodies jostle at the door. You eye the construction worker hauling tools, the student with a bike, the trio of chatty teens. Heavy cargo costs double. Choices click like turn signals: wave the cyclist aboard but block the gear-laden guy with a headshake. The teens squeeze into two seats by sharing laps, giggling. A grandma with a cane claims the priority spot. The counter hits **49**. One passenger left. Your stare locks with a runner vaulting over a puddle, briefcase in hand. Let him in, and you risk a fine. Leave him, and the schedule slips. You snap the door shut an inch from his fingers, exhaling as the bus lurches forward. Two stops later, three passengers exit. The dance begins again.
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