The fire on the horizon is the Devil, claiming your soul.

I met him on a 06:15am bus to Petrinja, home. It was practically Christmas but the weather was kind. The air was unusually warm for that time of the year, and it was still dark. The sun was only tiptoeing on the horizon and I was sleepy.
He wanted to talk…
You could recognize that kind of man a mile away. Scruffy looking hobo, a drunkard, a vagabond. Still, he had the brightest blond hair i have ever seen. It was magnificent in it’s waves and curls. I wondered how can such a man have that great a hair, but as I said, I was sleepy.
The bus was nearly empty, yet he sat next to me and started questioning me on my job, my work, my academic accomplishments, my family and why is Petrinja home.
I was being polite, of course, I felt sorry for the man, kept thinking to myself “he is alone and poor and probably hungry, at least you can give him a few kind words” and so I did.
I answered his questions but didn’t ask him anything. I didn’t want to embarrass him or make the situation even more sadder than it was. He looked like he was lost in my answers and I felt happy for giving him that momentary break from his life. After he got what seemed like every bit of information about my life from me he asked do I see the fire on the horizon.
I looked at the dawning light and said: “Yes”.
“That’s the devil, claiming my soul,” he said.
The bus stopped and I got out.
I was exactly where I started, in Zagreb Central Bus Station, looking at the 06:15am to Petrinja, hoping the next one would have a better story.

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