“That
will be $37.00,” the woman behind the counter tells me.
I
pay in cash and place my ticket in the back pocket of my jeans. I am 22-years-old
and on my way to Nelson, British Columbia. The bus station is quiet. Only a
handful of travelers mill about the terminal. One of them is a young woman my
age.
I
see her standing by two large bags. She has dark hair and is my height and
build. I am casually dressed. She is far more sophisticated in heels, sparkling
earrings, and a black miniskirt. With confidence, she approaches.
“I’m
heading to Canada,” she smiles. “My names Jeanette. What about you?”
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