Overheard a conversation on the bus. Two guys sitting behind me were animatedly discussing their last evening. They were friends who worked in different organisations and were going to work at the same time. So this is how it went - I only became aware of the conversation midway, and that is what I report below:

Guy 1: ... and X kept calling and calling! First on my regular number, then on my second number. I was in a client call and couldn't get out! Guy 2: I know! Same here! X kept calling me too and I was stuck in work, couldn't even pick up the call. I was just sitting there, sweating! Guy 1: I had to finally aexcuse myself and got out of the meeting room to answer him. I thought it was an emergency, and it was! Guy 2: I think that's the time we connected, right? (I am immensely invested at this point, visualizing some sort of calamity happening in Person X's life, who desperately needs these two to pitch in. Now wait.) Guy 1: That's right! And it was a bad, bad situation! (Guy 2 makes agreeing noises.)They had almoooost taken over everything, and X just wouldn't have been able to hold them off. Even with the three of us... (pregnant pause where they relive the trauma and the close shave) Guy 1: ...even with the three of us, it was hard. We finally had to get the dragons in! That was how we saved the day. (second pregnant pause where they relive the close shave and the success) I tried to turn my head and eyeball the two dingdongs, but they were exactly behind me, so it would have been rather rude.

A little splatter

She stood on the platform and looked at the incoming train with curious dispassion. It was a train. It had mass. It had speed. 

Didn't Newton's apple have those as well, she wondered vaguely. 

Oh yeah. Apples didn't leave a splattering of flesh and blood and bones behind when they fell. Or maybe they did, if they were overripe. She had never seen apples splatter. 

It sounded ... interesting. Apples, people. What did it matter? It should be an interesting experience. How did apples feel when they splattered? Did they feel any pain? Or were they too numb already? Already splattered inside? 

How would it feel to splatter, she thought idly, and was almost afraid that she didn't feel ... anything. Not fear. Not pain. Not inhibition. It was such a simple thing. All she had to do was stand on the edge as the train entered, maybe extend a leg over the side. Just a little. It was so easy to lose balance. So easy to splatter. Maybe she will feel something then. Something other than this vague experimental curiosity about apples. Other than the blank numbness.

This train didn't stop at the station. Or did it? What station was it even? She had no clue. 

But as the train blew a fierce whistle and entered the platform, scattering away the crows from tops of overhead wires and making the people reading the day's newspaper look back, she gently extended one foot beyond the edge. 

It didn't feel much, after all. 

Gender bender

So I was walking down to unlock the gate this morning, with my cat's offspring in tow. Two boys from the neighbourhood were taking turns to ride a bike and saw me at the gate. I called out to them, and they noticed the kitten behind me. Of course they had to stop and check out the new member in the locality.

"Is that Jack's baby?"

"Who's Jack?" I'm slightly perplexed; we have stray cats here, who are mostly attached to individual houses but visit other households as well, and get fed almost everywhere. So each cat can have different names in different households. 

"Why, the white cat who had kittens in thaaat house?" They point vaguely at some house yonder and look at me reproachfully. How could I not know Jack?

"Oh, that Jack," I hurriedly back down. I still have no clue who Jack is, but since Puchu had her kittens in the house next to ours, she can't be Jack. "Nope, not him."

"I know," pipes up the other kid, "This is Meenu's baby!"

"Nope," I have to disillusion him, "This is Puchu's baby."

They are confused. Puchu is my name for the white cat who frequents our house and whose kitten is following me, but they probably call her something else. They, however, struggle valiantly to get to the bottom of the matter.

"The white cat?"

I nod.

"With a black tail?"

I nod vigorously, to show that they are on the right track. Secretly, this description fits about five cats in the neighbourhood. Of both genders. 

"Jack." They reassure me gravely after considering all five options. "This is Jack's baby."

As luck would have it, Puchu chose that moment to drop gracefully from the boundary wall and stroll towards her mewing kitten. My audience stares at her as understanding dawns. 

"Ah!" They exclaim in unison. "That's Jack's brother!"

The delights of being around innocence!