Kei: Ah, but even without the bus, I think I can make it somehow.
Station worker: It’ll be really tough if you walk. The road is bad, and dark.
Supposing the bus is traveling at thirty km/h, thirty minutes at that speed comes to about fifteen kilometers.
Even if the road were flat and well lit, a sheltered girl like myself would find it quite a bitter journey.
What’s more, if you take into account that I’m carrying a bag stuffed to bursting, it would be white flag status from the start line.
Even if I wind up spending money unnecessarily, that’s something I would like to avoid, more or less.
Kei: Does this place have taxis or anything similar?
It’ll wind up costing more than a bus, but there’s no avoiding it. Also, it’ll take me straight to my destination regardless of preceding roads.
Station worker: There are. You want me to call one?
Kei: I would appreciate it.
Station worker: In that case, I’ll make a call. I doubt anyone’ll come, but I’ll leave this place in your care for a little bit.
The station worker leaves the ticket gate and enters the window office.
I fiddle with the puncher he left in my hands, *chokkin chokkin* and wait.
……I become bored immediately.
As I release my attention from the object in my hands, I begin to hear his voice on the phone and, without thinking, perk my ears to listen.
Station worker: You’re scheduled for a delivery now? Come on, it’s not like it’ll rot. You can do it later. Just shut it in the trunk.
Umm…… a taxi… company?
Station worker: Yeah, that’s right. Okay, thanks.
As if he can’t relax without it, the first thing he does as he returns is take back the ticket puncher, and say:
Station worker: It’s all set, ma’am.