The Banana Seller
It was a quarter to twelve on the night of February 13th, and my friend and I were returning from work at the STU. The road was dark and deserted, and like a diseased sun the orange glow from the street lamps painted parts of the road a fading shade of orange. My friend was feeling hungry so we were hoping that we might find some shop open. But all was deserted and quiet. We crossed the foot-over bridge over the local railway line and were headed back to our place. And then we saw that man, around 50 years old, with his push cart parked on the empty roadside, selling bananas. What he was doing there, sitting there in that odd hour when no soul but that like us would be coming along, we didn't know. But even though it seemed too much like the horror movies, we were only too glad to find him there. We approached the cart and looked at the bananas. They were all very ripe and just touching them made them fall from their stems. We bought some for ourselves and paid him fourty bucks. I