Around bar closing time, Saturday night, two girls are getting into their car below my apartment window:

CONFIDENT GIRL: If it doesn’t work out to move, that’s okay, though, because the place where we are is literally the only place we could be where our buses intersect.

CONFUSED GIRL: What?

CONFIDENT GIRL: Our buses intersect. He takes one bus to get to work and I take one bus to get to work, and they both stop right on our corner. It’s the only place.

CONFUSED GIRL: Oh, totally, right.

They slam the car doors and drive off.