Document page
English Chronicles 2025 26printed 30 · PDF 40
113 pagesrevision 50822
printed 30 · PDF 40
Page image rendered from the stored file at 110 dpi; it sharpens as you zoom. Outlines are placed from each region’s stored position on the page (596 × 842 pt).
readable
Source of this text: embedded text layer. The better of the embedded text and OCR is kept.
Invisible People
As the clocks struck six and the city slowly awakened, the infamous
Mall Road traffic signal came alive once again. At its center stood a
lone traffic police officer, tall and attentive. His uniform, once a
bright navy blue, bore the marks of many years of service. The fabric
had faded to a dull gray, its edges frayed, and dirt stains scattered
across it. His boots, though polished, were worn from the soles,
evidence of long hours spent standing on the rough asphalt. His
once-white gloves had darkened over time, their fabric thinning,
patched over in places.
Despite the worn condition of his attire, the officer carried out his
duties with unwavering precision. His whistle hung from an old
cord around his neck, and in his left hand, he held a small stick to
guide the relentless flow of traffic. Cars inched forward impatiently,
eager to gain even the smallest advantage. Motorcycles darted
through the gaps, defying the raised hand and sharp whistle
commands meant to restore order. Drivers leaned on their horns, as
if noise alone could bend the signal to their will. Yet, through the
chaos, the officer remained steadfast, his hand and stick moving with
sharp, practiced motions. Though he had left his home and family
early in the morning, he stood firm, committed to his duty.
Nearby, an old pickup truck idled at the traffic signal, its diesel
engine rumbling, causing the entire vehicle to vibrate. Behind the
wheel sat a weary man, his calloused hands gripping the worn
steering wheel, a testament to years of hard labor. His body ached
from endless hours on the road. He had just dropped off a shipment
at a warehouse and was now racing back to his home in Quetta, a
city he had left nearly a week ago. The thought of reuniting with his
young children filled his mind, offering him brief solace from the
exhaustion.
AC Chronicles
30