a train

she sank back into the rusty red felt covered seat and watched as trees sped by across a crimson sky. alone in the carriage she listened to the rattle and thump of the wheels beneath her. she cupped a sleeve in her fist and passed a forearm across the yellowed glass to clear the condensation. winter crept in through a crack at the edge of the window and she pulled her scarf tighter around her chin. the carriage door opened and a barrage of outside noise filled the solitary space. an elderly man pulled the door closed behind him and crept down the carriage, clutching at the felt of every seat with gloved hands as he moved. she pulled her scarf up over her nose and turned to follow the speeding landscape.

he chose a seat across from her and bent to sit, gripping the armrests. he creaked with the seat as he sat and he sighed. she felt him face her. she turned her shoulders towards the window and pulled the scarf higher up her face. she stared at the sky streaked white and pink and followed the clouds with her eyes. the old man coughed into a handkerchief and wiped at the corners of his mouth. they passed into a tunnel and her ears dulled.

in the reflection on the blackened glass she watched him surveying her, chartering every inch of her body. she pulled her thick coat around her a little tighter and tensed her jaw. the old man coughed again and she arched her gaze towards his in an irritated glare. light passed over his paper face and cold white eyes stared at the space between them.

a tree

he bent to tighten his laces and shook the cold from his fingers. he jogged out across the moor as a mist settled over the surrounding hills. the air scratched at his cheeks as he ran and he rubbed at his eyes with the knuckle of a fingerless glove. his breath bellowed out in front and wrapped around his chin. he could feel the laboured beating of his heart in his toes and his heels hit the wet grass with a sigh.

he approached a leafless and lifeless tree, its branches spread like the antlers of a beast against the grey sky. knots in the darkened bark glared at him as he passed under the skeletal canopy. but as he looked towards the sky he noticed drops of clear water hanging from the ends of every branch like ornaments. the tree took on an unexpected beauty that slowed him to a walk. he passed the tree and looked back. the crystal droplets gleaming in the dull morning sunlight. he stopped. his heart tapped at his ribcage and his breath was coarse against his dry throat.

as he stared back at the tree mist closed in around him unnoticed. despite the cold, a warmth built up in his throat and for a moment there was nothing else but him and this tree. its silhouette burnt on his retinas as he blinked away the cold air. the edges of his vision darkened and soon he heard nothing but the steadied drum of his heart. the tree stood, unmoved, its clarity slowly obscured by tears.

a queue

she shuffled her feet forward never once removing her eyes from the second hand of the white wall clock as it chugged around each minute. she could smell the putrid leather of the jacket in front of her and the sickly sweet tang of the perfume behind. she adjusted the shoulder strap of her handbag and bent the strap buckle back and forth with her finger and thumb. Leather Jacket shuffled forward a few paces and she followed close behind, sliding her feet on the waxed linoleum. an elderly lady clutching a bundle of paper hovered to one side, shifting from one slippered foot to the other as she considered her chances of winning enough sympathy to slip to the front. every pair of eyes she met glared back in defiance.

another few steps forward and the perspex shield of the desk at the front of the line was visible through the greasy curls of Leather Jacket's matted hair. specks of dandruff laid like fresh snow across his shoulders. she creased her nose and checked the time on her watch against the wall clock. another few steps forward and Leather Jacket bent forward to speak into the perspex. Perfume pressed against her back and she moved forward slower than necessary, turning to meet the eyes of the face behind. heavy eye-shadow, garish lipstick and a thick coat of cream foundation. the lips pursed at her and with an eyebrow raised she turned back to see Leather Jacket picking up whatever had been pushed through the revolving draw and turn to leave. carried forward by Perfume she pushed her numbered ticket into the draw and met the eyes of the cashier. he looked back with a half smile and she blushed.

a bundle

pigeons flirruped and twirtled against his bare toes. he woke with a start and kicked at the flurry of grey which scattered to surrounding trees. he dragged his dirty fingers across his bearded face and shielded his eyes from the sunlight with a khaki sleeve. laid across concrete steps he listened for the bustle of morning commuters. hearing none he figured it to be a weekend. maybe a sunday.

he half rose and rolled towards the upper stair and picked up a carton and shook it. liquid swilled and sploshed and he drew the plastic spout to his lips. he threw back is head and drained the last few drops of wine. it tasted sour against his dry tongue and he spat past his sleeve. laying back against the cold stone he rasped a groan which trailed into a long sigh.

a rustle behind his head and a noise like the whine of a cat. he started upright and swivelled on his hip, almost falling from his stair but catching himself. he glared at the alien package neatly folded not three feet from him. a parcel of cloth tied with rough twine. the parcel coughed and rustled. he approached on all fours. the deep red face of a new born baby winced at him. his eyes fixed on the strange gift his hand reached for the carton which he shook absently.

a new shirt

a cotton fold between a finger and thumb he pulled at a pearl button and drew the shirt closed over his chest. he looked down from the mirror and watched his wirey fingers work at the buttons over and over without meeting. his leathered hands trembled and he pulled a dry lip between his teeth as frustration and impatience wrinkled his wrinkled forehead. after pulling and fiddling for several minutes he paused and sat carefully on the edge of the hotel bed. he moved his toes around the confined space of his new leather shoes and rested his hands on pressed trousers. he drew a long breath and looked out towards the night. he met his reflection and looked deep into his tired eyes.

a short knock at the door broke his thoughts and a voice from beyond announced room service. he lifted himself from the bed with one hand, the other across his chest, and crossed the coarse carpet towards the door. he stooped towards the keyhole. "just, um, just, could you leave it outside a moment thank you". the small voice beyond the door agreed and a clatter and chink of porcelain was heard. he rose and glanced down at his open shirt. "actually would you mind terribly, um". he struggled with the latch on the door which he turned both ways and then both ways again. "do you think you could possibly, um". he turned and pulled and tugged and heard a trolley being wheeled away.