He sits on the platform, waiting. Not for the tube, although one was due. He sits waiting for her, the young girl who was said to dance in circles on the platform, then stumble and tumble over the edge, disappearing before she falls onto the tracks.
“Why do you go? It’s just a stupid, stupid story,” said his wife. She left him the following day, divorcing him within the month.
He walks over to the platform edge. Then the smell of electricity, a warmth in his chest. The girl next to him, close enough to touch. She smiles, “Hello, Father.”
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alt="Stone Jaws by Evan Baughfman"
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height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
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height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
class="motion-reduce"
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width="1200"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>