The bus stop was hidden between the trees, covered in ivy and moss. You had to know it was there to find it.

It was a small shelter, the wooden roof close to collapse. The timetable was long gone, but the bus still arrived regularly; twice an hour, every hour.

Not many used the route anymore. Many of the wood’s inhabitants had moved away to cities, and more often than not the bus was empty for most of its journey. The drivers had gotten used to driving silently through the woodland, missing the chatter and laughter of times gone by.