And then there was a man whose name I can’t remember. But he was scruffy, bearded and vacant. He was wearing white faded trainers, grey faded jeans and a faded black downs jacket. However, what was most noticeable about this man was the new purple and red backpack that was on the floor in front of him and the straps of which he held on to, for fear of losing it. He also sat perfectly composed, years of practice, and his gaze was steady enough to be unsettling. His stench gently pervaded the carriage. Had he abused a child or murdered a son to deserve this vacant lot? No. He had only killed a mouse and couldn’t understand why.

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