That Night

A she-he. But let her be a she. For she likes to wear silk saris. Her eyes are adored. She blushes when you compliment her. Her voice could be a harsh give away.
The backseat. Long. Silent. Helpless.
The man. I can’t talk much about him. His face was masked.
The driver. Probably a dog.

I met them late in the night, after a long working day. I had hardly walked some ten steps when I saw someone scurrying out of a car. It was her, hooking her blouse, adjusting her hair. In moments the scene was empty. Almost. I saw her slowing down, stopping and waving to another car. I wanted to wait till she was done and ask her name. I was also tempted to ask her how she became what she is. But the darkness weighed more with every second that went by. And I chose to move on.