Frost clung onto the bus windows, making it difficult to discern the faint glow of shops outside. The darkening sky looked as if someone had wrung it so only a hazy gray tinge was left. Inhaling a deep breath thick with smoke and exhaust, the bus sputtered alive.
A man emerged around the corner, his face hidden by flickering shadows dancing on the street. His brisk footsteps echoed against the pavement, while a tattered coat clung onto his shoulders precariously.
Everyone turned to observe the latecomer and frowned as though they had tasted something bitterly repulsive. Flakes of ice soaked the edges of his sleeves, gray stubble masking his chin. But he did not mind, for in his pocket lay the ticket that would finally rescue him from a life of misfortune.
There was only one seat left unoccupied, beside a businessman who propped himself tall and upright, like a flawless statue deserving to be displayed in a museum. Everything about him radiated a glow of importance. But his cruel sneer revealed predator teeth that looked ready to pounce. He gave a snort of disgust, throwing firewood into a flame of rage that already burned deep in the man’s heart.
But the man wanted nothing more than to savor his rare moment of optimism. Closing his eyes, he could just picture the ecstatic joy that would light up her face when he finally handed it over. Slowly, his hands rested on the bundle of hope hidden in his pocket.
A rustle of paper. The passenger beside him had now pulled out today’s newspaper and was flicking through it restlessly. He grumbled every so often, scanning the business section.
Catching a glimpse of the back page, the man suddenly recoiled in horror. The headlines were huge and bold, probably loud enough to arouse an entire city. Deep inside him, hope began to plummet down, down, down, until it hit the cold, hard floor of despair, shattering into a million pieces. As city lights blurred past the windows, his head spun with terror.
Sitting in tense agitation, fear pumped through his blood as harsh reality flooded back too quickly. How had the news traveled so fast?
Another quick look only confirmed his anxiety. From the wrinkled pages of the newspaper, it was undoubtedly a faded photograph of himself that stared back. Paranoia kicked in. All the passengers seemed to be scrutinizing his every move. He felt like a helpless specimen under a giant microscope.
The man was still struggling to devise a plan when his neighbor let out a sudden gasp of outrage. Gripping the paper tightly, he began to glance back and forth between the man and article. Slowly, triumph glazed his eyes, as he silently mouthed, “You?”
In an instant, he was rocketing out of his seat, hollering, “This man is a thief! Grab him!”
Several people lunged at once. Transforming into a hectic swarm of wasps, they tried to devour him. The man thrashed in panic, struggling to breathe amongst the tangle of fists.
If they sent him to jail, who would take care of her? Who would sit by her when she was in pain? Now that the solution was finally in his hands, it would all be wrenched away again.
They began to search his pockets, digging for the coveted prize. No, he could not bear to let her down this time. Driven by instinct, his fingers found the cool metal of a gun hidden deep in his coat pocket. Their aggression forced him to retaliate.
The first blast ripped through the bus, its pressure filling their ears with a ringing silence. Then, as though they were waking from a dream in slow motion, the passengers scrambled into chaotic disarray, some diving onto the floor, others muttering in hysteria.
But for some reason, the man loved the taste of authority. As more people rushed at him, an uncontrollable rage took over, diminishing all sense of self-consciousness. He wanted nothing more than to avenge everyone who tormented him, shooting away the cruel injustice. A fanatical light glazed his eyes, gripped by the intent satisfaction that overwhelmed him every time he pulled the trigger.
One by one, he aimed and fired. Blood filled his vision, screams echoed in his ears. He did not care. They all deserved it. It was not his fault that this hidden avalanche of tension now spewed from within. Every ounce of misery that had been viciously pounded on his life now tumbled out in a violent mess.
At last, his eyes fell upon a toddler. She was cowering in fear; biting her quivering lip. He pointed the gun at her, just like all the rest. His maniacal face twisted into a hostile grin.
“Please, no.” the mother whimpered in fear. But why not? If he couldn’t have his daughter, why should she? His grip tightened on the trigger, while the mother watched in horror.
Just then, a cellphone rang from deep inside his pocket. Gentle and soft, it was a tinkling melody that might have come out of a music box, yet heavy with melancholy. The fervent light in his eyes faded at once, clouded by a vague memory. Slowly, he held the phone to his ear.
“Daddy,” her tender voice filled his head with nausea. “When are you coming to visit me?”
Outside, the skies broke down crying, beating rain against the midnight streets. “Have you found the money for my cure yet?” He froze as remorse washed over him.
Tears blurred the vivid blood that flashed before his eyes. Dead bodies were strewn across the floor like wilted, trampled flowers. As shame stabbed him in the heart, he choked a mournful sob. What had he done?
“It’s okay, Daddy.” but her voice was tinged with disappointment. She was growing weaker by the day and he could not reach her in time.
“Please don’t forget about me.” she whispered.
He watched the stolen money flutter away like delicate butterflies in the billowing wind.
And he pointed the gun to himself instead.