Kære Emre,

You will laugh, but I am angry at a sign.

They installed a new strip above the windscreen. When the bus runs late it writes an apology to the passengers — all by itself, very polite, in three languages. Fine. Except Tuesday I held at Bispebjerg for four minutes because a woman with a walker needed those four minutes. Nobody dies from four minutes. And the strip lit up and told forty people the delay was being resolved. As if I were a fault. As if she were a fault.

I told my supervisor. He said the wording is central, he cannot change it. Central is a building in Sluseholmen where nobody has ever helped an old woman onto a bus in the rain.

So now I do this: when the strip apologises, I take the microphone and say why we waited. Out loud. People nod. One boy clapped, which was too much, honestly.

Zehra says I am becoming a difficult man in my old age. I am thirty-eight, Emre. I have decades of difficult left.

Rain all week here. The lindens are already going yellow, too early again.

Kiss the girls from me.

din bror Y.

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