You don't know who he is.
Don't you? Of cause not.
But he knows you. He sees you.
Perhaps you've seen him in your dreams but forgot.
One of those normal scenarios like on a plattform.
I know those sleepy thoughts are extremely rare.
But maybe you've seen him jumping on his train, holding on to the pole.
Facing you.
Was he really looking at you?
You wouldn't know.
His hat coveres everything but the lips.
But there, he moves his fingers to the hat and gives you a little nod.
Then he turns, while the front of the train is slowly disappearing in the fog at he horizon.
You watch him go patiently.
Waiting for one thing to happen.
And you're lucky.
You see it.
The little amount of water.
Falling down from the edge of his coat.
The raindrop.
It is the same raindrop that falls in your hometown on those grey days, you know for sure.
The blue crystal of water comes from the same black coat.
The same hat.
The same unknown man.
He's watching you, maybe everyone.
He is there, just watching.
Not good, not bad.
He just is.
And he will appear the second a raindrop falls.
And you will have forgotten the moment it reaches the ground.
He stays on those rainy days.
They're his home.
YOU ARE READING
Glimpses - shortstories
Short StoryDeutsch & Englische Geschichten. Voneinander unabhängige Einblicke. Ab und zu öffnen sich Fenster. Man muss nur den richtigen Zeitpunkt erhaschen, hindurchschauen und man entdeckt eine völlig neue Geschichte. Ich hab hier ein paar Fenster offen gela...
