Short Stories
Nobody seemed to notice.
The cars passed by in droves behind him, their headlights steering them firmly in the lit path ahead. The iron tankers trudged on in the bay. The city lights became more numerous.
The setting sun drew ever closer to the horizon illuminating the bridge in its red hue. He stood against the railing, his hands tightly clutching the handles. Looking down into the bay the water crashed against the foot of the bridge with increasing ferocity. His heart beat faster, his hands were moist.
Only the wind remained idle.
We rode through the narrow streets, weaving through the infinite maze of lanes that carved through the neighborhood. The houses were desperately packed together.
I reminisced with fondness all the time we spent together as family. I couldn’t grasp how and why things had changed so dramatically. I desperately wanted things to go back to the way they were.
We arrived at the house and could make out a figure through the narrow slit in the door. But as we got closer, the door shut with a loud thud. I guess our father wanted to remain in exile, for now.
Jim hurried towards the printer. His eyes fixated on the machine as he quickly entered all the requirements with desperate urgency. The printer was mute for a crucial few seconds before it engaged and fresh copies began to church out with familiar efficiency, calming Jim’s nerves.
“Tom is looking for you,” said Mary.
“I have a conference right now,” replied Jim as he hurried away.
Jim was surprised to find only Tom present. He turned and announced, “Hey Jim, could you go for a walk?”
Jim froze with disbelief. Someone had found out. But who?