Worse Things

'Crap bus service! And crap autumn weather!'
He whinged, his reedy voice making ears ache
more than the night chill. The sodium glare
shimmered, as he smacked his palm on the glass,
encased timetable, with a genuine madness.

His ferocity caused others to crack
and then retreat, but the glass held solid;
as did I, still lost in her dying breath,
reminding him: worse things happen at sea
and, regrettably, in hospital beds.