maria picked up the bag and watched the bus roll on to the street.
the bag felt light.
she hefted it and looked at it.
it was the same color and about the same size as her bag.
but it was not her bag.
how far could the bus have gone?
she ran in to the street with the bag. the bus was just disappearing around the corner, on its way back on to the highway.
she started to run down the street after it but the bag, light as it was, slowed her down.
she put the bag down on the sidewalk, and ran around the corner.
the bus had picked up speed as it headed for the entrance to the highway.
the night was dark and there were no lights on the street. there was no point in waving at the bus, or shouting.
maria ran as fast as she could, hoping that the bus might pause before turning on to the highway.
but it made a smooth exit and was gone.
no reason to panic, maria told herself.
just go back, get the bag that she had been mistakenly given, and bring it back to the preacher. he could call ahead to the next stop and tell them what happened.
she would get her own bag back eventually, after sitting in the little station for who knew how long.
a nuisance, but what else could she do?
maybe she would have to listen to the preacher for a while. and practice her storytelling on him.
maybe he would buy her breakfast, if she told him a good enough story. but he looked like a cheap old coot. though he had given her a little off her ticket, for knowing her bible.
she was slightly winded from running after the bus, and walked slowly back to where she had left the bag.
the bag was gone.
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