The mystery passenger


The small white paper tag affixed to the back of the seat opposite me speak of another passenger due to board the train. Someone organised, someone who has taken the time to ensure a seat by booking their ticket in advance. The slip tells me where they will join the train but not where they will leave and I wonder, as the train begins its journey, who my mysterious travelling companion will be.

My mind returns to the mystery stories of my youth, the tales of Sherlock Holmes, Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, the great detectives of fiction, the characters who would take the evidence in front of me and extrapolate the intimate details of the life and history of the passenger to be. I drift in thoughts of deerstalkers and midnight chases, of dastardly deeds and justice served and in my revery the trains moves on, stations called at un-noticed until at last a jolt brings me to my senses, I open my eyes and see, in the seat opposite me, a soft smile on his face and a knife in his hand…

…my nemesis!

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