Going places

He was headed nowhere in particular, but getting there in a very specific manner. Whenever a path showed itself, he treaded; be it by plane, boat or foot. Or, as in this case, bus.

The rain trailed down the window as the landscape – the mostest coastline countryside he had ever seen – passed by, one bump at a time. He idly wondered how far it was left to go to wherever, when suddenly the bus stopped at what seemed to be the end of everything, with the driver announcing:

“Swanage, end of the line, everyone hop off, if you please”

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