Every three weeks or so, the driver of the bus that I arrived on passes through Raglan.
I tend to bump into him when I’m on a run or shopping at 4-square supermarket.
I’ve been introduced to his passengers a couple of times as ‘the girl who got stuck in Raglan’.
It always makes me feel glad.
Eventually, I suppose, I will leave this place on his bus and I’ll be just another passenger again.
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