Miles’ bus is slowing for his stop. As he waits for the twin doors to open, he glances back at the empty chair where a driver used to sit. Somehow saying “Thanks” to a bot still feels silly, but he does it anyway, and it replies, “Your feedback has been recorded. Would you like a transcript sent to your email address?” He steps down onto the pavement and nearly brushes shoulders with an elderly woman. She looks straight ahead, unblinking, and his polite smile goes unnoticed. Another mechanical interaction. Still, she lingers in his mind — the easy assumption that her life runs smoothly, with a pension, predictable checks, fewer surprises. The thought fades as he quickens his pace toward the Post Office, where he’ll need a couple of money orders to cover his utilities. He can’t risk another overdraft fee against his thin checking account. This will take care of the light bill and the minimum on his BNPL balance. Next week the tax refund should come in, enough for rent and a new bus pass — maybe even dinner and concert tickets for Hannah; she paid last time. More calculations as Miles walks into the Post Office and straight to a counter. A small miracle — no line — at least something is working well in his life.
The clerk instantly sets to work on Miles’ money orders; her speed betrays the overlearned script. Everyone seems to be moving fast these days, trying to keep their own pieces from slipping. As he fills out the forms, a stray memory surfaces — a lecture last fall about Maslow’s Hierarchy. It hadn’t meant much to him then; he was still living at home, free rent, food on time, the garbage bills paid—funny thing, he never even thought about garbage bills back then. But now, standing at the counter with his utilities in one hand and next week’s worries in the other, a few of those layers make more sense. The idea that people think differently when just basic utilities cost everything you’ve got doesn’t seem so theoretical anymore. Maslow, the bottom tiers, yes, that’s what Miles is confronting right now—he’s not studying for test, he’s testing his inner strength for the stick-to-it-ness he’ll need to upgrade to a higher rung.
Back at the bus stop, Miles steps up into the bus with an ease that surprises him, and he suddenly recalls how the elderly woman struggled with the same step. Maybe her life isn’t so easy after all. She has her own battles — just different ones. Blaming her for choices he makes isn’t helping him pay the rent or quiet the worry about a tax refund that might come in late. That lecture on Maslow drifts back — just the idea that you can’t get to the good stuff if the basics keep slipping. Case in point, if he’s really serious about taking Hannah to England next summer, he can’t keep spending like every week is the same. He thinks about the concert, the dinner, and knows he can choose one without losing anything that matters. She’ll understand. The money he saves can sit there until he needs it, a small act of buying back his own future freedom, like maybe a debt-free vacation to England. It’s not dramatic, but it’s real, and Miles can feel the difference as the bus pulls away.
Author’s Note:
If you’d like a clear, accessible overview of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs — the idea Miles recalls in this essay — you can find one here: https://www.simplypsychology.org/maslow.html
