Short Story: Alternate Frequencies

There are many differences between him and her: skin colour, bank balance, number of years they have carried on their shoulders. They travel in alternate frequencies, destined not to meet.

Everyday at 3.15pm, however, he would wait outside her school door, the hot sun pressing down upon him. The beads of sweat slide agonizingly on his forehead like the condensation of his sugar cane drink.

There she is. Her designer schoolbag on her back, her latest iPhone, the heavy textbooks she carries with one hand – all reminders of the dissonance between him and her. Her eyes cut across the after-school din to meet his.

She approaches him, and gets inside the backseat of the car (not his). He revs up his engine and drives.

And finally silence settles.

All the other drivers told him he was lucky, he was paid so well. All her classmates told her it was good she was driven around. But no one saw the tragedy of the silence.

They travel in alternate frequencies. They cannot, do not, make conversation.