#87: Hidden

Peter jolted awake. A quick glance around and nothing was amiss. The train hadn't crashed, nor had he fallen from his seat. The mother and child still sat opposite, with the child now watching him.

He raised his hand to his breast pocket and felt the familiar shape. At ease, he feels his eyes getting heavy.

Just having it with him gave him that same sensation he had as a teenager. He'd go to the shopping centre with his mates and walk into the CD store. The game wasn't to just steal a CD, but to leave, go to the toilets, rip off the price tag and the security tape, and go back in and exchange it for a voucher.

That feeling of walking up to the counter and knowing the guy behind the desk recognised you from moments before, knowing you'd stolen the CD, but also knowing he could do nothing to prove it, and knowing he had to exchange the CD that you claimed had been a present.

That was the same feeling he had knowing he had it in his breast pocket. Walking into the office with it only millimetres from view, a small thin wafer of material hiding it from anyone's view. He knew people could see the outline, but there was no way of being certain that someone would dare.

Peter watched the child's eyes watching it as the afternoon sun flittered between the trees that whizzed past the hurtling train.