On A Ride With Despair

I felt my trouser pocket. The re-assuring bulge was still there. I smiled to myself. It hadn't been a bad day after all. I tightened my grip on the overhead rail to brace myself against the sway of the 'molue' bus. The aisle was stuffed full with people standing. Such was the nature of commuting in this city infested with lost hopes; travelling for long distances in a suffocating bus, jumping onto & out of slow moving buses, while keeping an eye open for the opportunistic pick-pocket.
Pick-pocket! My heart skipped a bit at that word, & my free hand flew unconsciously to feel my pocket. Ah! The money was still there. I sighed inwardly as sweet relief washed down my soul.

I did a calculated scan at fellow commuters around me, clutching desperately at the over head rail to keep steady against the rhythmic rocking of the bus; a middle-aged woman, an older one looking dirty, probably from any local market around, a hungry looking young man clutching firmly at a bible with his free hand, and a funny looking girl with a lot of exposed busty cleavage. That was enough I could garner without provoking somebody's foul tongue.

I felt relaxed. None of my 'neighbours' appeared threatening to my fortune. I pre-occupied myself with stealing glances at the bare cleavage as I could from my advantageous position (as she was sitting down).

"Ijesha" the conductor announced.
"Owa o" I shouted back to indicate that I would alight at there.

I started shoving through the mass of dense humanity, towards the door in readiness for the hop down at Ijesha junction.
"Your money" the conductor demanded with open palm as I got to him.
I dug into my pocket for the money. Nothing......