Through the Gates

Don't

A light swirl blows. The leaves which line the asphalt, are swaying now.

Don't look

He trudges into the fray, helpless against the coming onslaught. Trying his best to ignore the stares, he moves on.

Don't look back.

The gentle wind whistles along, caressing his jaded mind.

Just don't look back.

Approaching the much dreaded fork, he opts for a fist-bump rather than the conventional handshake. Less awkward. But weirder.

"Hi'' , out comes a stifled greeting.
''Hi''.

And so he looks back. Back into those eyes. Harboring recognition yet tangential with hostility.

And so he walks on. Towards another.  Another awkward greeting. Another muffled hello. Another weird fist-bump.

Another forced smile.