Rain lashes against the windows of a bustling Mumbai train station. He’s standing just inside the doorway, shielded from the worst of it, but still damp. His shoulders are slumped, his gaze fixed on the platform where a train is slowly pulling in. He’s holding a single, wilting sunflower, its head drooping sadly. Around him, families rush to greet loved ones, couples embrace, the air vibrates with reunions. He remains still, a solitary figure amidst the joyous chaos, his hand tightening slightly around the sunflower stem. He’s been watching for hours, scanning each face that disembarks, a flicker of hope – quickly extinguished – in his eyes. The train doors hiss open, releasing another wave of passengers, and he looks again, a quiet desperation etched on his face.
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