Collection point

At the collection point, he shyly greets the others who are standing outside, waiting. Linn is here again today. Linn, the sweet girl he's never dared to talk to, but whom he's heard called Linn. He sneaks a glance in her direction, wondering how it can be that when everyone else looks so unattractive in their work clothes, she just looks cuter. Her work clothes aren't any better fitting or cleaner than his or anyone else's. He always thinks of her as tall, but she really isn't; she's skinny and gaunt with big, unattractive glasses, a change from his own, which are small but still, cheap.

Teo loudly shares with anyone willing to listen about his escapades during their free time, how efficient he's been with the women, how many different ones he's kissed and hugged. They used to be friends; Teo used to be kind and friendly. But after they went out together several times and he noticed that Teo always looked longingly at handsome guys and not pretty girls, that it was always the handsome guys he wanted to speak to shyly, that he wasn't really interested when he talked to the girls, lacking empathy and curiosity. So, he foolishly suggested that Teo might be more interested in guys and wouldn't it be better to embrace this, to acknowledge how one feels, surely there must be someone who feels the same way?

It ended with him unexpectedly waking up on the floor with a sore face.

There must have been a misunderstanding? He wasn't angry at Teo for having hit him; it was hard for Pontus to make friends, and somewhere deep in his heart, Teo still lingers as a friend. Even though Teo refuses to acknowledge that Pontus exists. Pontus makes an effort not to think about the friends he used to have who are no longer around. Iben, did she really die of cancer as they said? Or was he told that, told to be kind to him? She confessed her love to him, but he felt that he wanted her as a friend, that he wasn't, or she wasn't, someone who made him want to be with her in that way. Six months later, she was gone. Why was she gone? Will she always be gone, still amazed, because she was so alive the last time they saw each other. He was also thinking about another friend, froze in his track, the gaze in the distance, don't go there, he thought, it leads nowhere, so he pushed the thought away.

As he stands there, contemplating the unbearable lightness of life, he hears the foreman coming out of the collection office, listing the names of those who need to be present. At the last moment, he hears his own name and answers "Yes" loudly and clearly, thus avoiding being blacklisted for inactivity. After that, the foreman goes back inside, leaving them to stand outside in the drizzle with the puddles that slowly form. Pontus thinks, "It could have been worse."

A while later, what feels significantly later, an old yellow bus pulls up to them. The air brakes screech as it comes to an abrupt stop, and a lingering rhythmic grinding sound indicates that the engine is still running, as an audiological sign, to prove that something operates and is working. Pontus sees the driver sitting inside in the warmth, not letting them in without a work order. Sometimes Pontus wonders how there can still be so much paperwork in a world that's supposed to be paperless. When the foreman finally comes out with the work order, they all board, with Pontus being the last to enter even though he was actually closest to the door. He tries not to show his irritation, an irritation he considers quite minimal but one that has tripped him up so many times before. "You're not social; you're too aggressive," as his former employer (And the one before) told him when they terminated his employment. And yet, he does not feel himself so. That he would be so much angrier than all others, a sorrow to be a man who so traps himself, not just once, but repeatedly

The bus seats remind him of his daycare field trips. Back then, the seats were the same but felt larger. Now, he can barely find space, thanks in part to the overweight lady sitting next to him, occasionally leaning over him with great enthusiasm to discuss private details he doesn't want to know with one of the other passengers across the aisle. Why couldn't they just sit next to each other? Perhaps because they wouldn't fit? He's already considered offering them to switch seats, but he recognizes a potential pitfall. Telling someone they're overweight is not something one can do and it leads to repercussions. Even if it's not something he intended to do, just the possibility of such a situation arising could put him in a difficult spot. If only the excavation site were closer; now it's a two-and-a-half-hour bus ride away. and he always gets seasick, or motion sickness, or buss sickness or whatever.