Four Foot Eight

Kensal Green

The young woman waiting for a London-bound train has a nervous face that won't stay still. It flits constantly between anger and pleasure, anticipation and fear as her mind registers the thoughts of the handful of people waiting on the platform.

As the train pulls in she can see that it's nearly full. Not good. The doors open and she rocks on her feet as a hundred different minds start shouting at her about work, about hangovers, about whatever someone's listening to on their iPod. A flood of raw, conflicting emotion tugs her this way and that as she concentrates hard, painfully forcing her own consciousness to regain control of her body enough to get her on board the train.

Sometimes it isn't easy being London's only genuine telepath.