Café Kassandra

A quaint little breakfast place beside a river. A man sits in a corner alone, his head buried in the menu. When he raises his head, something catches his attention -

A group of college kids chatting animatedly at the nearby table. Four girls, and two boys.

The man seems confused. He keeps glancing at the group from time to time, even while devouring his order of sizzling beacon strips and egg. Though he tries hard to hide it, the group eventually catches him staring. They become subdued and try to avoid his gaze.

The man approaches them hesitantly.

Are you guys from Mumbai, he asks.

They are.

He then says they look familiar, and proceeds to ask them whether they frequent any art galleries or theatre festivals, whether they volunteer at any such places?

No, they don’t.

He takes their leave. After he’s gone, the group discusses what just happened. Someone suggests that perhaps the tharki uncle just wanted to chat with the pretty girls from the group. Everyone snickers.

A few minutes and miles later, the man remembers where he has seen their faces – In a news article, which carried their photos. He had seen it in his dream. They were all there, wearing same cloths.

Victims of a tragic accident!

The date of publication?

Tomorrow.

Premonition is a bitch!