As the lift grinds slowly down towards the platform Cecilia Williams eyeballs the youth leaning against one wall and frowns at the tinnitus of white noise hissing from his Walkman. This is the worst part of public transport, she thinks. Having to share confined spaces with all kinds of riffraff, pickpockets, junkies muggers, and god knows what. That one over there's obviously up to no good. I bet he's a junkie. I bet he's just waiting for his moment to bash me over the head and steal my purse, leave me bleeding and unconscious to travel up and down in this lift until someone notices. He's got that vacant, stoned look in his eyes.
On the other side of the lift, Carl Hornchurch blinks hazily and looks around. Almost dropped off there, he thinks. Can't wait to get home - these extra night shifts really knock you out, but I've got to keep going - we really need the overtime for the deposit now we've got to move sooner then we'd planned. Once the baby arrives, the flat just won't be big enough for all of us.
Posted by mpk at May 21, 2004 12:55 PM | TrackBack