If there could be true darkness here and open space, it being a cold windy night would be appropriate. As it were, the dull lights and the hum of the lower caste area was enough ambiance for everyone. Both figures were wearing sweaters, one was about half the size of the other. The taller being shaped like a man while the other was obvously a child, their faces, if one chose to bother looking, were distorted. Like you saw them but couldn't remember the fine details, the colour of their eyes the shapes of their noses. Their hair was covered by the drawn hoods.
The taller of the figures felt sad. The posture, the way the shoulders were drawn together. Drawn and defeated. But the smudge of his mouth still drew upwards when he kneeled to the child and he gave the child a kiss and hugged them close. "There's pictures. Of me and your mother in the backpack, grandma and grandpa. Even of &7@*^~ and %!$#4. I... Have this for you." Looked like a gold chain with a something-else gold on it. The mans fingers were bare.
"It was your mothers." Quiet phrases like 'i love you's and 'be safes' left the mans mouth, and when he looked down at his phone, at the time, he gave the child another kiss. Lingering. Like the last one he'd ever give her. Because it was. He left, and the child didn't make a peep, father had said not to. And they were good. They clutched the backpack to their chest and waited quietly. Another figure came by and the child went with them.
And then they left. For good.
And then the man went home.
