The in house porter from Straub Hospital finished her shift at two in the morning. She gathered up her things in her backpack and made her way across the street to the bus stop to wait for the one that would take her to Kaimukī.
Behind the porter stood the gates of the Roman Catholic Cemetery. She eyed the space now and again, not so much out of fear but out of curiosity. Turning back to check her watch, she noticed someone a few feet away from who lit a cigarette. The brief flame illuminated the face of an aged Hawaiian man with a thick white beard; after, she couldnʻt see him quite clearly because of the street lights' dim ambiance. She rechecked her watch and looked back at the cemetery one more time. The bus was a minute behind, and she was exhausted; all she wanted to do was get home, stand under a hot shower, and then go to bed. Her head began to throb the way it always did when she became irritable. She let out a short sigh and shook her head, but no sooner did she do that than the bus appeared a block away. She saw green lights all the way, which meant that the bus should be there quicker than expected. She stepped up to the sidewalk and remembered the old Hawaiian man who was having a smoke. As tired as she was, she stepped aside out of respect to let the old Hawaiian man get on first. She gestured in front of her, and she saw the bright red light of his cigarette moving toward her. Once the bus pulled up to the sidewalk, the porter let out a hysterical scream. Only the bright burning light from the cigarette floating in the air appeared in front of the porter to board the bus; the old Hawaiian man was nowhere to be found.
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