Nocturnal

The last train at 1.30 am never failed to show a world that did not exist – at least during the day.

He was privy to many secrets of the night – petty criminals sharing the booty on railway stations, movement of contraband goods on the roads, hookers trying to lure customers and the paanwala serving late-night loiterers or people returning from the night show at a theater. He liked seeing stray dogs snuggling against homeless beggars.

He was intrigued by the presence of a woman in the train at this hour. Was she working late-night shifts too?

Perhaps, he spoke his thoughts aloud.

“No, I don’t work late-night shifts. But have you ever seen a young man on the train? He carried a guitar and sported long blue hair.”

He was stupefied by the description. The news channels carried the news of a person of this kind killed in the subway, a few weeks ago.

“If he has escaped last time, he won’t escape me now.” She bolted out like a shadow on the platform, like wind from the crevices of the closed door.

He froze in his seat. This was the station where the man was reported to be killed.

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What Do You See #363 hosted by Sadje