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The following story is a work of fiction and bears no relation to existing people or events.

Κλέφτρα robs the woman and the man on the train platform (short story)
drs. Efthimia Dilpizoglou
(c) 2016 all rights reserved

The blogger breaks open the suitcase with a single blow. “That dumb ass at the train station…”  she thinks to herself rummaging through the stranger’s belongings. Nothing useful here, and unfortunately nothing edible. Just pictures and notebooks and threadbare stained clothes. Dirty stinking hoarder, thinks the blogger. Who packs up a suitcase with a bunch of dirty laundry? “A HOARDER!” she says angrily and kicks away the suitcase. Her stomach roars. She could use about anything just to fill up her empty stomach. Even a bottle of sploiled milk would do.

She picks up a black notebook that fell from the suitcase, throws it in her backpack, hobo-hops another train to the next station. On her way there, she opens up a random page in the notebook and starts reading:

“She injected the superblue fluid into her vagina. Cutting open a vein running up her arm, she inserted the other end of the tube into her pumping bloodstream. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Kissing her pale lips, she said: Virtue, you have a bad secret operational you are keeping from me. I demand that you reveal everything, or these dusty secret agents will take your mother, one after another. You know there is a fourth way after we’ve tried plan A, B and C. Your most favourite thing, the nerd, is next. Are you ready?”

“What sick shit is this again? Can’t anyone write a normal story anymore?”. The blogger discards the notebook, tossing it into the first garbage can she sees on her way out of the train. “Women spend half their lives avoiding having sex with creeps, and the other half writing about having creepy sex.”. This observation leaves the blogger indifferent. If only she could make up a normal story of her own to keep herself entertained. Or at least  distracted from the hunger pangs.

At the opposite platform, platform 19  wagon compartment 87, she spots a man staring absently into the distance. His black luggage behind him left unattended. She rushes down the stairs, through the hall, up the stairs and appears on the platform behind the man. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Perfect dumbass.”, and the blogger smiles to herself, grabbing his luggage just when he turns his head. She stares back at him and doesn’t make a move, her fingers  holding the luggage handle tightly. “Κλέφτρα!”, the man exclaims, “HOW DARE YOU ROB MY CHARACTERS? THIS IS MY STORY! THESE ARE MY CHARACTERS! THIS IS MY TRAIN STATION, MY PLATFORM, MY LUGGAGE!”. Her empty stomach roars loudly. All she can think of is a bag of salty chips and a pizza slice.

…to be continued

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