The Courier by Marilyn Weisman

He was bent over lighting a cigarette, blocking the harsh November wind with his cupped hand.  I wouldn’t have noticed him except for the nervous way his eyes darted around as he leaned back against the wall in the Dagupan train station.  As the train arrived he hung back while a crowd of people pushed and shoved like cattle fighting their way off through the open doors, colliding with the mass of humanity attempting to enter the train.

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