Nothing...

The pendulum motion of thought and action converged on her at that very moment. The moment of truth: Her moment of truth. Sitting on the bus it had occurred to her: who were these people she sat in close proximity to? She didn’t know who they were, or more importantly what they are? Housewives, mothers, fathers, workers, children, babies. The babies were fairly safe territory for now, but what of the future? What of the now? What if her thoughts had not lead her to the one? The one thought. The thought of now. If it had happened at that moment and had not been a thought. If that unknown person in the seat behind her had leant forward grabbed her hair and had slit her throat from ear to ear what would she have been thinking? What would have been her final thought? The notion of this scared her, not her death, no! Of course, the action of the perpetrator in itself would undeniably have provoked much thought. It had been what her thought in that moment would have been, should the action have occurred. This is what frightened her most. She didn’t know what it was. She had no recollection of how the defining thought had occurred nor could she locate any traceable route as to why she was now thinking about her death on a bus. A bus she caught every day on the same route with mainly the same people. Maybe the reason she had, had the thought was her internal desire to annihilate mediocrity, her mediocrity, the annihilation of herself. The thought to her was ludicrous, the only thing that she deemed to make any sense, was if her death was to occur she would not like to die thinking about nothing.