Short thriller about life on the London tubes.
It was quiet as he stood on the platform waiting for the last tube home. He kept his head down looking carefully at his dark mud stained boots, trying not to make eye contact with anyone else, the last thing he wanted was an altercation with someone who had had one-too-many drinks. He was sober, as he had been for six months. He had just been to the cinema alone, as was his normal Thursday night tradition, the flickering light from the projector his only friend. His laces on his left boot were undone, so he steadily knelt down to tie them. As he did so he couldn’t help but notice a pair of bare legs to his left, beautiful perfect bare legs. He made a grunt of discontent and continued clumsily tying his shoe lace, he remembered what his mum had told him, ‘the rabbit goes out the hole, round the tree, and then back into the hole’. This memory made him smile, but it was interrupted by the stream of air which tells the well travelled that the train is coming. He finished with his laces and rose back to his feet, head still directed towards the faded yellow line that separated him from the tracks. He couldn’t help but look to his left again as the train arrived, partly to see the bright headlights, partly to glance at those perfect legs he had seen earlier. This time he look higher than just the legs, and saw her face, he felt a shiver in his groin. No, he thought to himself, Stop it. The doors opened, he took the two steps into the brightness and warmth offered within.