June 22, 2010
I get the same train everyday. I walk onto the platform with 4 minutes to spare. I buy newspaper, flirt mono-syllabically with polish counter girls and adopt the same lean against same pilon. I maneuver ever-last through same doors. Adopting the same surf like position against wall, looking outwards, I read a broadsheet.
She’s there every day, every day in same cart, every day looking prettier than the previous. Every day she’s off at the stop before me and every day do I watch her leave.
No ring to see, plays games on her iPhone and drinks coffee all way to London.
7am is a challenge.
