At 4:55 he would be standing there, either the fourth or the fifth line from the left, his front facing the sunset, drooping, burying his face in that same thick book. He would be bathed in that hot, yet mellow, but bright orange light.

 At 4:59 the train would come, and a gush of wind would pull him back to reality. He would close the book, poof, and then step on the train. Whoosh, it was always cooler inside the bogie. When I heard the beep I would turn left, and there he would be, his back against a corner, one bogie away, reading again. I found myself staring at him, and I shuddered as I regained my consciousness again after a long stare, fixating, observing the boy. 

At 5:15 he would get off the train. At 5:15 I would get off the train too. I might have been lying low for the past week, and I will not tolerate this. Not anymore. The boy went right to the stairs, and I hurried there too.

The boy pressed the card against the pad on the gate, and I did too. I sped up, and I was just an inch away from him, now an inch in front of him, now 2 meters away from him. The boy noticed this and, poof, he closed his book and sped up after me. I walked even faster, ran, and reached my hand out and pointed one finger to the sky. The motorbike driver noticed this and nodded his head, started the engine, and I hopped up, and we took off. I turned to see the boy, now slowing down in despair, and smiled. He was always one step ahead of me, taking that only one motorbike home without having to ever wait. I was always the one who had to wait

But not anymore.

Not. Anymore.