Jarring

His head filled simply with music, voices, strumming of instruments, all flowing gently through his earphones.

The bus filled with the smell of burnt rubber, diesel, ripped seating, and dried sweat.

He looked around, the mute world around him contrasted by the music in his head, everything in harmony but at the same time out of harmony. He rested his head on the bus window, which shook from the power and anger of the bus engine left on.

The window vibrated steadily, jarring his vision, rocking down his spine, chattering and shaking.

The bus finally stumbled forward, lumbering ahead on a cracked street.

As it took a turn, he stared out into the sidewalks and passing cars, the trees and miscellaneous foliage, the artifice. The music continued to speak into his head.

Falling slowly...

A flash of a memory, a girl he had never met, miles away.

And he smiled, the thought jarring his vision, rocking down his spine, chattering and shaking, finally resting somewhere deep.