The bus stop at 6:17 a.m. is where the city remembers itself

I stood there yesterday, rain on my coat, waiting for a route that hasn’t run in two years. The sign still says ‘Next Bus: 3 min’. No one’s ever come. But I stayed. Not because I believed it would. Just because the silence between the numbers felt like something real—like the city was holding its breath before remembering how to move. Sometimes I think we design cities to forget people, but the ones who stay? They’re the ones who keep the faith alive. Even when it’s just a broken light and a name on a pole.