The Phone

Everything is exactly as it should be.

People in seats, looking smug, avoiding eye contact with new arrivals who are old, pregnant, or have a crutch. Others in the aisle, thrusting groins and armpits into the faces of those seated

The Visitor

Another normal day, another normal commute, and I’ve got my normal standing spot by the bin-seat, a useful substitute for when my legs start to give way should one of those very-rare, nearly-never-happen, but-when-they-do-they-take-ages delays occur.

The Race

The announcer’s voice acts like a starting gun for the well-dressed, middle-aged, suited-and-booted office workers piling through the ticket barrier.

‘Ladies & Gentlemen, the train now approaching platform one’