Four Foot Eight

Tooting Broadway

A man hangs around outside the station, weighed down by an enormous rucksack. He seems to be deep in thought.

So, this is it, he thinks. I've done this journey twice a day for the last five years. Into the City in packed, standing-room only cars. Work all day in those bloody stifling offices. Back out of the City in packed, standing-room only cars. Microwave, television, beer, sleep. But this is the last time. Maybe the last time ever I'll walk through these gates. Never coming back. Too late to change my mind now, of course. A leap in the dark. Wonder what I'll be doing in five years? Oh well. Only one way to find out. Best be getting a move on. No time to hang around. Here goes...

He walks through the station gates, buys a single to Heathrow, takes a last look behind him and heads off down the escalator.