By C L King
Every morning, from my vantage point on Platform 1, I’d see him on the opposite side.
He was balding, bespectacled, and baggy-suited, with a greyish face. I wondered what could weigh a man down so much that even his facial features pointed south. It became oddly comforting, seeing him. A familiar marker on my daily commute.
Yesterday I saw a tattered bag like his, discarded on the pathway to the station. The platforms were crammed with frustrated commuters, cursing the soul lying broken down the track. I scanned the crowd for him but he wasn’t there.
He wasn’t there today either.
Left me wanting to know more!
Maybe there’s a part two in me somewhere!
Very interesting story.
A great, powerful piece. Well done.
Appreciate you taking the time to comment.
This story had a big impact on me since I was on a train that hit and killed someone once. I suppose it’s true that such short pieces depend on the experiences of the reader for full impact, and this story hit me like a rushing freight train.
I commute by rail and the idea for this story came to me when I was delayed one morning due to someone taking their own life. Sadly, it happens too often.
Powerful story.