The Mind Creative OCT 2013
and faded leather shoes. It was obvious that the fashion of the sixties
hardly impressed the young man.
“Good evening,” he said.
“Hello,” I said with a smile. “Looking for someone?”
“Hell, yes,” he replied, looking around. “My uncle was supposed to have
been here to receive me.”
“Will be here soon, I am sure,” I said looking over my shoulder at the
station’s gate. I was glad that his uncle was not around because I rarely
had the opportunity to talk to someone.
“Name’s Brian Selby,” he said with a smile. “Mind if I sit down?”
I flashed a friendly ‘don’t mind at all’ smile. “Where are you from?” I
asked.
“Sydney,” he replied,
rolling his eyes. “A
far cry from this
place, I can assure
you.” He let out a
hearty laugh and lit a
cigarette.
“Would you like
one?” he asked,
looking down at my
nicotine stained
fingers.
“No. Thanks. Haven’t smoked in years,” I lied.
He smoked for a while in silence, glancing occasionally at the gate.
Then he suddenly turned around on me and asked “Pretty quiet around
here isn’t it? And haunted too, I heard.”
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