Overwritten

46 : Stranger

Scott and I began to walk down the long streets. It was cold as per usual, the days feeling shorter, but so much longer at the same time. I shivered as a gust of wind trailed down the streets, my hair twirling in the air. Papers and posters which scattered the ground rose into the air as if they were a crowd rising to clap.

Each paper, dotted with information in lettering, tossed and turned in the air in an elaborate dance, harmonizing together. Some rested to the pavement, pictures of the newest celebrities plastered on the front, the cheap ink already running from puddles of water on the ground.

Others continued their pirouettes in the sky, some rising above to the rooftops, others being caught in another gust of wind. However, for a moment, I caught a glimpse of one. It was a design, lines intertwining together to form the shape. Oranges, reds, and whites.

It was a fox.

I had to pause for a moment, try and look at what I had seen. But the paper was gone, trailing with the others as they continued their morning dance along the city streets. With a defeated sigh, I tucked my shivering hands deeper into my pockets, walking along.

Perhaps I had just imagined it. After all, it had been silhouetted against the morning sun, and when looking for something it was easy for your mind to trick you. To see the red and orange hues from morning light and assume it was a part of the printed image.

But it still sent shivers down my spine.

On the train, it was a lot warmer inside. Body's were crammed inside however Scott and I managed to sit by the window. I sat across from him, my own eyes drifting outside as buildings darted past. I couldn't help but try and imagine the lives of each person I saw.

I would see a small snapshot of their lives from their train, just a glimpse. Perhaps it was a group of boys walking to school, or an elderly man walking to buy groceries with an outdated card design. I liked to think of what those boys were talking about, what kinds of things the man was going to by from the store.

On some days, I would see the same people.

Usually there was the same woman that passed underneath the bridge which our train crossed, usually at around the same time every day. Although only for a second, her characteristic look was easy to recognize each time. Brown strewn back hair into a tight ponytail, sleek black clothes, and bright red lipstick which contrasted against her pale complexion.

In her left hand, she carried a briefcase, slightly larger for her small body. Then, in her right hand, she swung an umbrella by her side. I wondered what was in the briefcase. If it was documents, then why not carry them digitally? What else could it be?

But then the train would continue. A light hum as it barely touched the electric rails. And the lady was gone.

At times, the train would go so fast that I was unable to see anybody, not able to focus on their small details, only the blur of the back of buildings and windows. Whenever the train would stop at a station, several dozen more people would press on.

Sometimes the people would resemble someone I know, but then when I looked closer through the train window, I saw that the girl waiting on the bench wasn't actually Marie, but simply a girl waiting for her friends to arrive. However this trip, I felt like everyone around me was a stranger.

Scott and I were a few minutes from our usual stop, watching out the window as buildings grew more deteriorated, and people donning the street grew fewer. However, just then, my eyes widened. I almost jumped from my seat and pressed myself against the window when I saw it.

"What?" Scott asked, seeing my reaction. It had already passed, but I had seen it, actually seen it. I didn't answer, still trying to process it. Scott frowned and continued to wait for a response.