Sam was ten minutes early. Under the cover of illusion he bought himself a foul instant coffee and perched, plastic cup in hand, on a bicycle rail outside the station’s main entrance. He was too tired to notice the passage of people through the car park, the burning of neon lights or the crackling announcements from the station. It was a wonder his illusion didn’t fail him then and there, his mind lost on paths too complicated for the body to follow. He’d finished the coffee, but unconsciously he raised the cup to his mouth again. Somewhere a clock struck seven. He waited. Clouds were gathering overhead, and he felt a cold wetness as snow began to fall – mushy snow that melted on contact with the pavement. Holding out his hands he watched the little crystals settle on them, wither and turn to water, as promptly as if nature were on fast forward. Quarter past. A kindly station porter, recognising a foreigner, asked if he was all right.
What do You think about Waywalkers: Number 1 In Series?
