1 Red Snake
I chose him because of the red scarf.
My palms sweat. Dirt from the walls is smudged across them and slithers in the folds. There is a faint smell of kebab in the air and an excited murmur moving down the platform like Chinese whispers. I wonder how distorted the message will be by the time it reaches my end.
Can you hear it too, Mum? Do you think they’re whispering about me?
There are other scarves too, red and white combined and I guess that a football game must have taken place. Yet, his scarf is different. It is pure red, the red people affix to the badge of fiery passion, the badge of cold-blooded murder, without the interludes of white to dull its beauty.
He is unique. I’ve watched him for weeks now and the time has finally arrived. The clock says 15:32 as casually
