...I Say Hello

Under The Radar: You Say Goodbye...

Please read Teo's prose before this. Actually, it might be more interesting if you read this first, provided you haven't read hers yet.

The man was leaning against a large column. His red and puffy eyes stared down at the ground, counting the number of stains on the large grey floor tiles. His inflammed nose was itching in a very irritating way. He opened his mouth and closed it several times, thoroughly annoyed that whenever he was about to sneeze, the tingling sensation went away.

The train to Anchor City was late. There was some sort of major delay in Belleville, and he would probably have to spend the night in a hotel nearby. He would be searching on his iPhone for a cheap place to have dinner, but his battery had died half an hour ago, and the bitter wind outside snuffed out any willingness to walk around and take a look. He shuffled with his luggage over to a rusting metal bench which had just been vacated by a woman reading off of a scrap of paper. As he sat down, he swung his backpack around, pulling out a small map of the city. Silence hung loosely in the air as he scanned it, trying to locate the train station.

His nose began to prickle again, and this time, he let out a violent sneeze, as though the pressure was building up the whole time. Gingerly, he dug around in his coat pocket for a napkin, first passing over a bus token, then a note pad, and finally, the much needed tissue. He blew his nose, then turned around in his seat to throw it into the garbage can, and as he did so, a Coca-Cola ad caught his eye. It was a vintage style one, with Santa Claus holding a bottle on the front, standing next to a plate of cookies in someone's home. Santa's face was a tad bit too red for that frothy brown liquid to seem like a soft drink.

The man's eyes skipped over to the next ad, and his stomach churned unpleasantly. Words like GONORRHEA and HIV jumped out at him, clawing into his mind. It hadn't been long since he dumped his girlfriend. Just a few months ago, they'd had a bit too much fun at his place. She had chosen not to tell him, not until the symptoms started. He had been furious. He'd told her he never wanted to see her again, and if she had any decency, she should allow herself to be raped. At least then, some creep would have to face the consequences of a lack of protection.

He turned back around, and stared hard at the riders inside the train closest to him.

"Attention passengers," said a boring, male voice through the loudspeakers. "A piece of unattended luggage has been brought to the information booth of the east wing. Anyone missing their bag should check in at the desk..." The man looked at his own black luggage, content with its presence.

 The train engine hissed, then started to get louder. Small vibrations travelled through the platform and into his feet. He watched as the cars began to move. One after the other, they left, each passing faster than the one before.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the five o'clock train has now left the station. I repeat, the five o'clock train has now left the station. Please stand by for further notice about the delay in Belleville." Great, so his ride was still obviously stuck there.

A small piece of paper blew into his lap. Curious, he picked it up and turned it over. On it was what looked like a phone number.

Five four nine, one one two six.

There was no area code. He looked up, and saw that the woman who he'd seen with it earlier was still standing at the edge of the platform. He tensed the muscles in his legs, about to get up and return the slip, but something told him not to. Relaxing, he watched as she pulled a cellphone out of her backpack, and began to dial. Her blank expression remained unreadable as she snapped her phone shut a few seconds later. His eyes lowered back to the paper. The number seemed rather familiar.

Five four nine, one one two six.

He gasped. He remembered why he knew it now. His eyes narrowed on the woman, who was walking away. He got up and rushed over to her quickly, repeating the number in his head.

Five four nine, one one two six.