|sent from: London, UK. destination: Hersham, Surrey, UK|
The train lurches to a stop, and the girl lurches onto it. Her white shoes are muddy and stained, her ankles caked in mud. She falls into Maria’s seat beside me, who just stood up to take care of a falling bike (mine)
“Excuse me, my wife is sitting there.” She doesn’t even hear me. I repeat myself, a little louder. She looks at me, stumbles to the seat opposite.
“Well your wife isn’t sitting there right now.” The smell of beer washes over me. Over the next five minutes to the next station she tries to retain control of her debit card, iPhone, can of Heineken, cigarette. I looked over to a trickle of yellow liquid, and thought she had just peed herself. “I’m spilling my bee-arr”, letting drop a crumpled cigarette into the mess. She got off the train at the next stop. Her friend called after her – “Hope you get home safe!”