2:17 am again. The hum of the fridge is getting to me. Or maybe it's just the heat, even though it's October. I dunno. It started a few weeks ago. Mid-route, number 14, going past the old industrial park. Sun was beating down, even through the tinted glass. Had the AC blasting, like I always do, ’cause the passengers complain if it’s too stuffy. My usual M.O. You know, keep the peace. And then, wham. Like someone flipped a switch inside me. All of a sudden, I was… sweating. Not just a little bit. Full-on waterfall down my back. My uniform shirt, the poly-blend monstrosity, it just clung. And my face, I could feel it, just absolutely radiating heat. Like I’d been in the sauna for an hour. I gripped the wheel, trying to act normal, you know? Like nothing was happening. Looked in the rearview, saw Mrs. Henderson in her usual seat, knitting, oblivious. Good. Don't need her asking if I’m having a stroke. The weirdest thing was, it wasn't just hot. It was like… an inferno. From the inside out. My heart was pounding, thumping against my ribs. Like it was trying to get out. For a second, I thought, this is it. The big one. After all these years, driving this same damn route, day in, day out, this is how it ends. Collapsed over the wheel, passengers screaming. What a way to go. Pulled over at the next stop, pretended I needed to check the engine. Popped out, walked around to the back, just took a minute to breathe. My face was crimson. I could feel it. The sun felt cool against my skin, which made no sense. It was hot out. But I was hotter. Just stood there, hands on my hips, pretending to look at the tires. One of the old guys, Mr. Rodriguez, he yelled out, "Everything alright, Johnny?" I just gave him a thumbs up, wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. My hand was shaking a little. This is FINE, I kept telling myself. This is absolutely FINE. Got back in, started driving again. It faded after a few minutes, left me clammy and drained. Like I’d run a marathon or something. The whole rest of the shift, I was just… on edge. Waiting for it to happen again. Every little warmth, every slight flush, I was bracing myself. What is this? Am I sick? Am I dying? Never had anything like it. Not like this. It keeps happening. At least twice a day now. Sometimes more. Usually when I'm driving, of course. Always when I'm stuck in traffic, or have a tight schedule. Never when I’m home, relaxing. No, that would be too convenient. It’s always when I’m focused, trying to get people where they need to go. Like my body just decides to betray me at the worst possible moment. The other day, had a bus full of high school kids, loud as always, and it hit. Felt it coming, the familiar surge of heat. Just clenched my teeth, kept my eyes on the road. The AC was on full blast, they were probably freezing, but I was in a furnace. Inside my own skin. I keep a spare shirt in my bag now. A spare, and a small towel. Just in case. I try to time my breaks so I can duck into the depot bathroom, splash some water on my face. Stand under the hand dryer, even though it just blows hot air. It's the only place I can be alone for a minute, just let it pass. It's embarrassing. Really embarrassing. What if someone sees me? What if I'm dripping sweat and someone asks? What am I supposed to say? "Oh, just spontaneously combusting, no biggie." I went to the doctor, finally. Had to take a half-day. Paid for that. She just looked at me, gave me that polite-but-firm smile. Asked me if I’d been under a lot of stress lately. STRESS. Lady, I drive a bus for a living. What is "a lot of stress" even supposed to mean to me? It’s just… life. She said some things, used some big words, gave me a pamphlet. Pamphlet. Like that's going to fix anything. It didn't make me feel better. Just made me feel… old. Like this is just another thing that happens when you hit a certain age, and you just gotta deal with it. So now, I’m just driving. Feeling these random internal fires flare up. Trying to pretend everything’s normal. Wondering how many more years I have to do this, sweat pouring down my back, gripping the wheel, hoping no one notices. The cost of living ain't getting any cheaper, so it’s not like I have a choice. Just gotta keep going. One more route. One more inferno. My uniform smells a bit now, even after washing. I can smell it. Or maybe it's just me. I don't know.