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REFLECTION IN A FRIGHTENED EYE!

by Lili Hart

It was the evening rush-hour. The tube was crammed to bursting point. Everyone looked tired. Strained eyes turned inwards, impatient to get home, unwind, relax, throw off the shackles of the daily grind. Each one isolated in this weaving sea of humanity, busy with their own thoughts. Yet one pleasant-looking young man courteously offered me his seat, as I tried precariously to strap - hang with my right arm while leaning heavily on my invalid stick with the other. Gratefully surprised by such gallant action in these indifferent times, I sank down and looked around me. From my sitting position in this tightly-packed standing throng, my eyes mainly beheld denim-trousered legs and trainer-shoes, interspersed with mini-skirts and knee-high boots or ankle-length dresses and poncho-capes with large, sack-like bags hanging from shoulder-straps. I had a long way to travel to my local station at the end of the line, and gradually, from stop to stop, the carriage emptied until finally there was only myself left plus three young men sitting opposite, whom I had hitherto hardly noticed. They were leaning close together, their three shoulders touching, but without exchanging a single word between them! My eyes returned to the newspaper in my hands and I became absorbed in one of the articles. All of a sudden, I was uncomfortably aware of being stared at. I glanced up and noticed the eyes of the young man in the centre looking at me fixedly and totally without blinking. I fidgeted slightly in my seat and returned to my evening-paper. Again I stole a furtive glance in his direction - he had not shifted his gaze, and with a stifled shudder I perceived that he still did not blink, in fact not a muscle moved in his pallid face and his stare seemed somewhat glazed. Drunk? I puzzled to myself? No, his body sat too still for that. Drugged to the gills?

Much more likely! My eyes swivelled sideways to the young man

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