You don’t care if the train isn’t express. You can’t drive anyways and it’s alright being alive.
A little less than three thousand miles
Lina Abascal
1766

There’s a short claymation film called Harvie Krumpet, released a decade ago that won an Academy Award that same year. Your last sentence reminded me of its last narrated verse (albeit referencing a different form of public transport):

Harvie was going enjoy what time he had left. He took off his clothes and he sat in the morning sun. It shone on his face, and he smiled for the first time in a long while – as he waited for the invisible bus. He knew it would never come but, he didn’t mind.

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