Paranoia?

I'd stepped off the train at Meadowbank after our weekly Sunday night dinner at Sarge's place. Living on his own while his parents and siblings are spread throughout continental Europe, England and Wales hasn't been the very best of experiences for my best mate. It seems to be a series of unfortunate but comical events, much like those inflicted upon George Costanza or John Becker. But I digress.

It was the second last train of the night and I'd stepped down onto the platform. Another guy in black pants and a black hoodie with a bottle in a brown paper bag had gotten off too, and as I'd walked down the platform and crossed the tracks over the footbridge, he slowly walked behind me and to the right; I got the feeling he was following me.

I immediately thought the worst. I've kind of been on edge about this sort of thing after the mugging last year, so I thought it prudent to stick within view of the station surveillance cameras, pretending to check the timetable poster on the wall. I was hoping that this guy would just continue on his merry way and that I was just being overly paranoid, or if was indeed following me, that he'd not be game enough to try something under the bright fluorescent lights and gaze of the electronic eyes.

So there I was, pretending to check the timetable poster, and the guy seemed to hang around. Then I did something one probably shouldn't do: I looked at him and made eye contact. But I recognised him; it was someone I knew. From high school. We weren't buddies or anything, but we knew each other. He was a shady character back then. You know, drugs, violence, and maybe a little crime. But that was back then. Of course, I wouldn't know about now.

Anyway, I called out his name. He looked up, seemingly just recognising me then, and we had a brief chat. And then he went away. I took the long way home from the station after that. Now, I'm not going to cast aspersions on his character. I mean after all, there are ongoing construction works at my local railway station and the access to/from the street is pretty confusing; he may have just been a little lost and was relying on a random to find a way out. But I couldn't shake that feeling of being hunted, almost. Maybe I spooked him because I didn't turn out to be a total random. I don't know.

I'll say this about him though: he isn't a bad sort. My mind ran away with me as I walked the dark streets towards home. Maybe he'd heard those rumours about me and just wanted an easy way to get his end away. Not that I'm into sexual predation or anything. Or that I'm easy.


Listening to:
Title: I Know
Artist: Save Ferris
Album/station: 10 Things I Hate About You OST (1999)
Length: 2.52