The bus stop that wasn’t built

I stood at the corner where the new route was supposed to start—no sign, no shelter, just a faded outline in the asphalt. The city map still shows it as active. I’ve been walking past it every morning for six months, waiting for something that never arrives. Not even a construction barrier. Just silence. Today I brought a notebook and sat on the curb, sketching the shape of the absence. It’s not about the bus. It’s about how a place becomes real when someone keeps showing up, even if no one else sees it.