Village of the dead, only the bus could save me

Not so much dead, more of a warm body. Perhaps walking into the local Pharmacy wasn’t such a bright idea.  The pharmacy stank, reeked of traditional medicine being brewed by sets of pressure cookers.  An old woman with a voice, like a rusty gate being opened, asked for, and got her bottle of tonic. In front of me, stood an old woman, waiting for he prescription to be filled. Beside her sat an even older woman, seated. I guess her bones felt a bit tired.

The old and the elderly sat in chairs not unlike sitting at a bar waiting to be served their medicinal liquor. While the pharmacy assistant (possibly the pharmacist’s wife) hurried about making up off the shelf prescriptions. Another woman, not as old (and obviously not as sick, was standing while she took her meds) drank her three bottles of off the shelf medicine, then put them into the correct recycling bin.

After having gotten her daily fix, she then turned to me and just stared. I was onto her and didn’t return her stare. She snuffled in way only Koreans can, and walked out, through the exit; Spurned by my non-repsonsiveness. Yo Mama, zom-bina! I’ve been here too long to fall for that gag.

Escaping the fume-filled pharmacy, after being served my over priced anti-histamines, I walked to the bus terminal and the waiting room. Got my bus ticket, and waited. Not one person in the waiting room was under 50.  So many people waiting to die, but more immediately, waiting for the bus to arrive.

I went outside to get some air, a little disturbed at seeing all those elder people. Maybe the bus terminal doubled as a day-care centre, but more likely the younger demographic were at work, or at school.

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