I was at a train station — a public space like any other. People moving, waiting, talking. And among them stood someone who didn't quite fit. Not in terms of clothes or age, but in presence. His behavior was... off. Not loud, not aggressive — just quietly, deeply unsettling.
He was around 1.75 meters tall, about 70 kilograms, but those numbers didn't matter as much as how he moved. His eyes were red, bulging, and spasmed slightly, flicking in rapid, unnatural motions. He looked like he was struggling to stay on his feet — like balance and focus were slipping away from him moment by moment. His gaze passed through things. His vision wandered, not aimlessly — but searchingly.
I noticed him zero in on a young man nearby, probably around 17 to 21. He wasn't just glancing. He was studying the young man's appearance, subtly but persistently. Then he started asking him questions — soft-voiced:
"Where are you going?"
"That direction, right?"
"You said that already, yeah?"
He asked more than once, as if needing confirmation. As if to lock onto something.
But he never answered the questions of the young man, seemingly trying to help.
Not a word on where he was going himself, only redirecting the question to something else.
He didn't seem aggressive, but he didn't seem safe either.
Something in his tone, his posture, his invasive interest — it felt wrong. The way his body lagged behind his gaze, how he spoke into people, not with them, and how the young man seemed to answer out of politeness and concern but not fully comfortable with the situation — all of it added up to a familiar feeling: unease.
I couldn't tell for certain, but based on his physical and behavioral signs, I'd estimate he was under the influence of THC, somewhere in the 15–25mg range — enough to alter coordination, awareness, and inhibition, especially if not regularly consumed.
#(An estimation based on his state, and based of how I know how one could be under the influence of these substances)#
Once the train arrived, he seemed to follow the young man a short distance, then paused. when the young man entered the train, same carriage as I, I redirected my attention to the suspicious man.
From the window as I sat, I saw him, still outside, looking through the inside of the train, scanning — for something, or someone.
He then saw the young man, focused a few seconds and entered the train one carriage away from us.
A moment later — no more than two minutes — three police officers entered the same train and walked directly toward the cabin he had gone into.
Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe not.
But based on everything I observed, I'd estimate there's at least a 60–70% chance that they were there because of him— whether they were alerted, already tracking him, or responding to a report.
What This Means
This wasn't about paranoia or profiling.
This was about noticing the disconnect between someone and their surroundings.
It was about the subtle danger of presence that doesn't belong — not because of how someone looks, but because of how they move, speak, and fixate.
In a public space, everyone is visible. But some people are noticed for the wrong reasons. And sometimes, someone else's safety depends on the fact that someone was paying attention.
I didn't intervene. I didn't call anyone. I didn't need to. But I saw enough to know that being aware is never a waste of time.
We walk through life surrounded by stories in motion. Sometimes, those stories collide. And sometimes, they only miss because someone was watching.
// second chapter of this book, each chapter its own story, each are real events, that I saw or was part of.
Some of the later chapters may be like the first, less analytic and more based on thoughts of our society in an everyday context
Good day to you all, till next time!
{+600 words without author thoughts }