A warm dark rectangle.
That was what it was after all. A long toasty box, filled with rows of seats; all with a certain air of weariness about them. Covered in a thick crinkled heather grey material, they seemed to be begging silently for a kind of companionship.
Despite the silent, tired interior, the exterior was jumping, vivid, and fake. Bands of glowing neon twisted their way across the structure, globes of red light sliced through the dawns inky chill. This gaudy shell sped across barren city roads, quiet as a snake. As it slid into view, it's waiting passengers hoisted their heavy packs, and waited for their dazzled, stricken vision to return.
With a hiss, the double doors of the bus opened and the travelers mounted the dull metal steps, and deposited themselves into designated seats. Frigid and sleepy, neighbors attempted stilted conversation. Once the necessary social obligations where filled, they relapsed into a sort of semi conscious coma.
Maybe it was 10 minutes, Maybe it was 10 hours later. There is no sense of time on the bus. Just a cloying fog of heat and drowsiness. Whatever the moments had been, the passengers knew that their time to face the day had arrived. Gliding in front of the brick and glass monument to conformity, the doors opened, and the brave souls onboard filed out.
As they entered the building, the seats sighed. They missed the travelers. Carbon copies, possibly, but people all the same. And when your lonely, nothing is more desired then a human touch. 


"Always give a word or sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, or even a stranger, if in a lonely place."
~Tecumseh