Prejudice.

The light drizzle accompanied his steady step to the bus stop. He boarded the usual bus and took his seat by the window. Harper Lee in hand, Lea Michelle in his ears, his own little cocooned world of words and music.

Someone sat next to him.. he never glanced that way, rude as he deemed it to stare someone in the face. As Lea reached crescendo and Scout came running, he felt it.. that queer sort of feeling that someone is watching you. He felt his co-passenger's gaze on him.. a gaze unruffled by the wind, or the rain, or the flurry of people around.

It made him conscious of himself.. he didn't like to be watched. He didn't like to be stared long and hard at, like prey being surveyed by predatory eyes. It made him resort to his nervous habits of adjusting his watch and playing with his hair.

He lost interest in the book, turned further right and stared out of the window. The rain was usually a good distraction, from anything. But he still felt that gaze, felt like it was boring a hole through his back. He was irritated now and vocally demonstrated it with a "tch" and bodily turned himself away.

"Chinna malai - Court" yelled the conductor. He could sense movement, yes, the co-passenger had finally quit staring at him and was getting up. He finally turned to look at the source of his uneasiness. His co-passenger had an interesting contraption in hand. A small metal tube-like thing, that when he got up and stretched, became a walking stick.