I arrived at the bus depot at the bottom of the Kaneshie Overhead with a few minutes to spare. We had arranged to meet at 2pm to catch a bus to T’di and from there take one of the trotros to Busua. I hopped into the front cabin of one of the vans in the queue, intent on saving the other seat for you. I told everyone who approached that you were just around the corner buying food. After a while the mate declared that the van was full and that I needed to allow someone to take your seat or alight and hop on the next van. I got off and made my way down the line listening for the calls: “Cape! T’di!” I called you, impatient. You said you were at 37 Roundabout and that you had lost your electronic cigar and needed to look for it. You were trying to chase down the taxi driver who had driven you there, but the rank was full of taxis. I said I’d wait for the next van. You said you’d try to get there soon as you could. After we hung up you texted: “I can think of ways to make it up to you…” A smile crept up my face. I blushed. I looked around. I stashed my cell phone.