He stood up and left. With Molly still in the shop, perhaps permanently, Barry was relegated to the bus. Stepping on, he thought he recognized so many faces. Patawanyme, Vanity, Chronic, but they were all just a shade off. "And the Molly was the Tin Man, and Chronic the Cowardly, Lion, and Tab was Toto," though Barry, laughing at himself. No, he would have to see things for what they were. As he stared, he missed his stop entirely and rode on. Over the rest of the day, he sacked out on the bus, riding around Los Angeles, smiling at babies, smelling, even if hesitantly, the acrid and sweet odors of his fellow travelers.