The air is crisp, clear and bright. The cold nips at my exposed fingers and seeps through the cloth of my trousers. The commuters wait patiently and without complaint for the ever late 0821 train, it eventually arrives at 0828. That aint so bad. It is normally much later than that.
Here, on the train, seats are scarce and the aisle is full of over confident and sneeringly sulky teenager students. I take a seat next to a book reading stranger, I am aware that I have the presence of the hung over. Stale pubs and a late night bearly hidden by my deoderant and Paul Smith aftershave.
The motion and rocking of the train sends me back to the drunken blur of last night. I mull over comments and conversations spoken through lost time and over indulgience. Those Man-Mushy moments long over due with long lost friends now found...
There were words and doodles in my diary this morning. Evidence of open wounds still weeping. Reflections of how the sun has gone down on the day I call a some 'friend'. Damn it. The subject is closed. Well it certainly should be by now.
The train arrives at my destination and I make my way with the milling crowd, swept along in a mass of iPod isolated individuals... My day job, my three spankingly cool computers and my mp3 playlist call me on.
I need coffee and pastry.
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