Those People (Short Story)

I'm not sure why I came. Curiosity, most-likely. I suppose it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I came.

Those people— I can't take my eyes off of them. What was the man with the camera doing here? Was he a tourist, snapping a picture of the little girl in the red hat? His backpack was probably full of overpriced souvenirs and a snack for later. But he had on a green tie. Maybe he was on his way to a meeting to sell his photos to a magazine.

And what of the girl? She seemed to want to climb the ladder along the wall beside her. Did she want to get to me? Another girl her age was rushing by. Were they friends having a play date? Were one of the two women nearby their mothers? Or were the children sisters? I could hear their laughter as they played. Sweet innocents.

A woman was dressed in a black suit, a white blouse to give it dimension. Was she a reporter? Was she on her lunch break? Maybe she was on her way to meet her husband or pick someone up from the airport.

Some of the people I can't see well. Light reflects in my eyes and blurs their images. I imagine they were happy, going about their business. Nothing could harm them. They must've thought that, same as I do.

What had brought about this event? What brought me here now? Had they all agreed to meet? Did they plan to hold themselves down to await their fate? Had someone taken them, forcing them? I stand at the edge and stare at them. They can't see me. Soon they will be gone. Perhaps that fact is why I came.

I reach down and reel back in alarm. Cold. My heart aches for those people. Was it cold then? Had they been frightened? Why was I here? I couldn't help them now.

Blue. It was all blue and blurry. Their faces were morphed, distorted. Their expressions were unreadable. Were they smiling? Screaming? Eyes open in panic or closed in peace? I turn my back on the scene below. I wipe my wet hand on my pant leg, knocking against my gold badge. I'm not sure why I came back. I only know I will solve the mystery.