My eyes are closed.

The rhythm of the bus ride is lulling me to sleep. It’s cool on board, which is surprising, considering most places I’ve visited in Kyiv have not had air conditioning. There has been little relief in the 90-degree heat, and I’ve been sleeping in my underwear for days. As someone who typically can’t sleep without something covering her, there have been quite a few restless nights.

I’ve almost drifted off when I feel a knee sink into the back of my seat. My eyes flutter open, and I see two large, hairy arms reaching over me…

Driftygal by Melissa Elise Randall

Melissa Randall is a nonfiction writer and essayist. Her stories on Medium often discuss travel, film, and personal life experiences.

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