Àwọn Àmì-ìwé Tí A Fẹ̀

The last bus home stopped running at 10:30 PM. Everyone in town knew that. So when Mila saw the bus pull up at 11:17, she felt relief before she felt fear. It hissed to a stop in front of the empty shelter. The doors opened. No driver. No passengers. Just the inside lights glowing like a hospital hallway. She checked her phone. No signal. Dead battery icon blinking. “Okay… not funny,” she whispered to nobody. The doors stayed open. Cold air spilled out of the bus — not night air. Refrigerator ai