I ran between apartments, by-lanes and back streets and finally made it to the main junction. "Phew, Victory at last."
Maybe now I can start walking like a normal human being and not like a thief who is running from the law.
"Hey, mister you late again?"
I was astonished when I heard this voice behind me.
"Oh, it’s you," I said, catching my breathe. It was little Tim. He sold newspaper everyday, at the corner of the 5th and 6th Avenue. Sometimes his little feet carried him to the main junction. He was very prompt and very professional, and kept an eye on all the happenings around him. I knew him for a while and really enjoyed his company on the days I was early to work. He filled me in with all the local gossips over a cup of hot tea.
But today I had no time to chat.
"Here you are " he said and threw me "The Daily".
I tossed a coin and juggled my way out through the morning traffic. The day turned out well as my manager did not see me come in. I worked on the dyeing section of the ‘Regal Mills’.
The rest of the time I was a painter. I sold my canvas to the local art dealers and enjoyed the extra money.
Living in the city was very unfamiliar to me, as I was a village lad. Here no one makes an effort to greet you or get to know you. All are in a big hurry to get there. But get where? And when you get there, then where do you go from there. How do you know that you have reached there? All these questions were buzzing in my head as I was returning home after midnight from work. My good friend at work was sick, so I decided to fill in for him. He needed the money and I really did not mind. He had helped me get a job when I was new to the city.
It was a chilly night and it had rained a while ago. I watched the main junction- deserted - a shocking contrast to what I had experienced every morning. Where everyday I feared getting run over by a car or buses would squeeze the pulp out of me. But now it was a wonderful site.
I was gingerly walking and enjoying the beautiful moon as its reflection glistened on the small puddles. When I suddenly heard footsteps behind me. Maybe he was some guy working late like me and returning home for a hot meal. I paid no attention and continued to enjoy my walk. The footsteps continued, as though it was following me.
I thought maybe I would confront the guy and ask him what he wanted? But then this is the main junction he could be going anywhere, maybe he is not following me at all. I was just getting paranoid.
Now I turned to the 5th Avenue. From here, there were other roads leading to various parts of the city. Now I guess my friend would have found his way to his destination. But still I heard the footsteps behind me. It was so clear and distinct. I started walking a bit faster and then started running, splashing on muddy puddles and finally reached my door. That was a relief. I peeped to check if the guy was around, but the street was deserted. Well I guess I had lost him. I had a good dinner and turned in for the night.
Next morning I was going late to work as I was working on the late shift. I finished my paintings, and set to work and forgot all about the last night’s events. The day passed and was time to go home.
I suddenly had this fear in me. Who was that guy following me? I hope he was not waiting for me. I looked around and made my way home. Again at the junction, I heard those footsteps behind me. I had increased my pace, he too did the same. But today I had decided I would see his face and confront him. So I ran to the corner of the shopping area where there was light on the displays. I went round the corner and waited. But no one followed, "I bet he knew what I was doing" I thought.
So after a long wait I finally had the courage to return to the 5th avenue. Again he was behind me. Out of sheer fear and anguish I just suddenly turned and said, "Who are you? What do you want?"
There was no one, only a newspaper flew away in the wind. There was chill in the air and I was just too terrified to wait in the dark and did not expect to get an answer.
The next day I was glad to hear that my friend was back to work so now I was on my morning shift. I was on my way to work, and was looking out for Tim. But instead an old man was standing and selling newspapers. I bought the paper and asked, "Where is Tim?" The old man said that Tim had died two nights ago. A bus ran over him on the 5th Avenue. I was shattered.
This young boy had so much to live for and passed away, and I did not even know. A distressful day passed and it was late when I decided to leave. I walked down the cold night when I heard the footsteps again.
I don’t know what came over me, I just turned and said, "Tim is that you?" after that the footsteps stopped.
