Crimson

Crimson leaned against the bus stop, one leg bent with his foot against the wall, listening to some musical. He wasn't sure which one. Musicals—many of them just blurred into one another after a while. Not that he was paying much attention. One eye was on the bus tracker, the other was on Insta.

He had just liked Erin's latest—Erin on all fours in puppyhood, paws and tail—when he felt the tap on his shoulder.

Crimson looked up from his phone. The man's mouth moved silently.

Huh?

He removed the headphones.

You a furry?

Huh?

I said, Are you a furry?

The man gestured to Crimson's black and white tail trailing behind him. His expression was inscrutable. He had his phone up, as if he was filming. Crimson didn't like his tone.

No.

Do you identify as an animal?

No.

Do you think you’re an animal?

No.

Then why do you have a tail?

Cause I like it.

Do you want to be an animal?

No.

This persisted for another three boring, repetitive questions.

Crimson put his headphones back on and ignored the man. Realising he wasn't getting anywhere, the stranger walked off.

"Happy New Year—" Crimson called after him.

"prick," he muttered, and returned his attention to the music and tracker. In his absence, the track had jumped. "Heart Attack" by Demi Lovato.

The man returned with fresh vigour. His mouth was moving animatedly, though his words were drowned by the music.

Crimson said nothing. He prepped his bus pass as the number 34 pulled up and trotted on, tall and confident, leaving the man to his silent monologue.