SHANE | LOST BOY

He stood in the one part of the train station that was concealed in shadow. At first glance all you would have seen was a dark corner; a closer look would reveal the dark hooded figure slouched against the wall with his shaded gaze penetrating the tile beneath his feet. 

A never-ending flow of people waltzed past him. He took no notice of the current of strangers, keeping his eyes fixated on the one tile that nobody dare step on. His hands reached out from under the oversized hoodie sleeves so that his slender fingers could fondle with the hem in a classic absent-minded nature.

He visualized each tile as a square on a chessboard. A small smile graced his handsome features as he imagined each individual person removed of free will and shuffled around a board, all the while under command of a higher power. Pawns in the master's game of defeating the opposition, only relieved of the puppeteer that they have been enslaved to when they are knocked off of the board altogether.

For some peculiar reason, the metaphor pleased him.

It reminded him that no matter how much they wished to be, people were not in control of their lives. As insignificant and useless as pawns on a chessboard; it was almost too easy for human lives to be swept away faster than you can blink.

Blinked.

Toppling off of the board.