wearing an orange turban,
neat and perfectly tied.
There was something about him,
that made me want to know.
Staring tracks, he saw a rat move slowly.
I saw again, in anticipation.
The gaze had hardened and tensed, his face scrunched
People he was looking at, moving like the rat.
A sudden noise and the gushing rush
He froze, the train passed vacant
A wobbly step back and a turn confident, he left.
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