Why Midnight Walked But Didn't Ring Her Bell.

When I get off the train I notice that there is a man wearing a school bag, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t attend that school, nor would he have had in the last forty years. He turns to walk in the same direction that I will, but I have already made a conscious effort to follow him anyway. It’s hard to stay far enough behind him since we’re walking through tall grass and the water on the grass is getting into my shoes and I’m taking long strides. As I get closer, I fear that he can hear my footsteps behind him in the mulching of the grass. He slows down and takes out his phone. He stops and I pass him, unable to slow down further without garnering suspicion. I keep walking, and as I come to divert into the underpass, I turn my head slightly to glance back at him, and see that he is still standing there, the back-light of his phone screen illuminating his face, blank and inattentive. I consider waiting at the other side of the underpass, but it's dark and that would just be too creepy, I think to myself, so I walk on. I walk past a car that hasn’t moved in so long that it has spider webs attached from the base of the car to the road, anchoring it to the black sea of asphalt. I walk past a crying baby standing at a window looking quite distraught, so I smile and wave to it, only to see the mother appear behind it giving me a look of absolute disgust, and I wonder who is the victim in this scenario. I walk past a house where I always have to be attentive as to what I’m doing so as not to be talking to myself, as there is usually a women sitting in a chair on her front veranda smoking, but she isn’t there tonight. I walk and think about how my heart has been hurting all day, and how my left arm has felt less dexterous than it’s right counterpart, and I wonder if I am having a heart attack. I try to think of the time.