small old school yellow plastic Nokia. Incessantly bleeding blips of a river of texting.
both in blue sitting on different sides of the aisle. Trainers, tracksuit pants blue hoodie. She has a wool coat, blue and white scarf camel neatly pointed wedges. Leaning across she fondly and with a gesture that, perhaps because I did not realise their familiarity, folded care and concern together, caressed his knee. All the while piercing him with a reassuring smile. He was surprised, and stayed shrouded in the ennui of a track suit surrounded by we the commuting class. I can only marvel at what stories are held by that public intimacy.