Get me out

This is a random story about a train ride.

I'm running late for work- two hours and twenty two seconds late to be precise. At least I have a seat on the train. The only think I hate about sitting on a half empty train is that people are more likely to stare at you. Like now for instance. I am eating my daily pain au chocolat, chocolate croissant for those of you that don't do French, and the two people sitting opposite me are staring longingly into my eyes. I start to get paranoid and wipe my mouth incase I have croissant flakes all over my mouth. I take a sip of my warm latte but when I look up they are still looking at me. Perhaps they are hungry. Maybe I should offer them my croissant. I lick my lips and make a 'ummmm' noise at my croissant. I look at them on purpose they look at each other and make a disgusted face. Haha, that made them stop looking. But they are probably thinking that I am some crazy girl. Oh well.

Three stops later and they get off. They are replaced by a handpick 0f random train passengers. I look at their face briefly then analyse their footwear individually. I don't know why but I have this wierd habit where I look at a persons footwear on the train and try to guess what type of person they are. The guy sitting on the far left, leaning on the glass looks like a model. He's wearing this tanned leather brogues with stone washed denim jeans. On his lap is a Gucci manbag. I look at his shoes again to see if they too are designer but I can't see a label on it. Oh shoot. He's clocked me staring at him. I look around the train carriage and pretend to stare at other people to make it less obvious. 'Hey', I hear him say. I look at him to see if he's talking to me. Wow he's American. And he's not talking to me. 'Yeah babe. I'm on the way t0 the magazine shoot now.' Oh my gosh. He must me a model. Or maybe he could be the photographer or stylist. But why would he be taking train?

Crap. All this unecessary thinking and guessing game has made me miss my stop. Damn it. I am definitely going to be late for work.  'Hey Jones. Sorry I'm late. I was just analysing this guy on the train and trying to figure out what he was and missed my stop' I'd say to my ever so not so understanding you have to be on time manager.'

The End

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