There was nothing unusual about it.  It was a bus transfer for that date and that hour on the Dexter Avenue bus when he found it as he approached his second story walk-up at ten o'clock that night.

     Inventory accounting had been long and tedious that day, but after a quick shave and freshen-up, Ogden Whitman headed for the bus stop.  He determined to use the transfer in either direction, first come first served.

     He took his seat westbound on a nearly deserted Dexter bus.  There was an elderly black couple upfront and a girl, a very pretty girl, in a middle seat.  She smiled when he spotted her and they rode to the end of the line together saying little but connecting nonetheless.  Like Ogden, she worked downtown and had since school.  Neither had any siblings.

     They got off and walked to her own modest walk-up.  It was a corner apartment like his with a pleasant view from inside and an even more pleasurable one within.  Chance meetings had been made of less. But not for Ogden and Alice.  Not until Ogden had found the transfer.

     Ogden and Alice Whitman had a nice sound to it, yes, indeed.