The girl stood at the corner of the street in the dim, flickering light of an old street lamp. The morning wind came in harsh gusts, blowing scraps of trash through the streets and sending the girls large, tattered coat and black skirt billowing against her body. She ran a hand through her unruly, shoulder-length raven hair and clutched at her leg warmers. The bus seemed later than normal that day. It would seem logical that, since the morning bus was chronically late, the girl would simply come at a slightly later time, rather than wait outside in the ill weather for it. This plan did not work, however, due to the fact that the bus only seemed to come on time when she was early and was only late when she was on time.

Murphy's law liked to pick on Anther like that.

(and because I'm in the midst of a highly amusing conversation on Facebook with MagicalMegumi I shall stop)