The gray light of morning breaks through the cloud bank as the police work their 12-car cordon around the bus.
The body that we heard thump loudly at daybreak has been removed, caught on the grill of a bus trying to cross Eastern Boulevard.
The gray sky is invaded by black-tailed clouds off the bay as the police photo the approach and the bus patrons mill aimlessly on the sidewalk.
The homeless couples cock their heads, dazedly questioning the scene as they emerge from the train tunnel to seek their breakfast.
The police get into their long line of cruisers, the blocking cop picks up his traffic cones and the cruisers and detective sedans pull away in a hurried procession as the clouds suddenly drop sheets of rain.
A man behind me says it was a woman.