She descended to the underground, wishing over and over that he'd run after her and say sweet words, that he didn't mean a thing he just said, that he wants her, needs her. That he loves her.
The underground was overheated with the cramped bodies of city workers ready to go home. Home, that's where she wants to be, curled up on her bed crying, in the arms of - NO!
She banished the thought because she couldn't think of him, She wouldn't think of him, because he didn't care.
She took her head out of her hands, she didn't even realise she'd covered her face but the brightness was overwhelming. She drifted to the Picadilly line going east, that would take her home.
Somewhere above her, he stood, eyes digging at the gum-marked ground. He felt so empty, his feet turned and walked him out of the north facing city to a slip road to the right where their favourite restaurant was situated, a lovely little itallian place.
He stood outside the restaurant staring at his reflection in the glass, he knew by the solemn look he saw reflected in his eyes that he'd made a mistake. He knew what she wanted, that as she walked away, for him to run, dramatically like a scene from a cheesey film, to embrace her and kiss her... He remembers their first kiss, under the thousand year old lebbenon tree in the park where they first met, she had been unwilling because she was scared of love and scared of broken hearts.
But he had offered her a reliability that he knew, at the time, was genuine. He offered his arms to fall into whenever she needed, she didn't want but at the moment their lips met, it was beyond her control.
He closed his eyes and he was with her.