Boy Trouble

I'm sat next to a woman in the depths of despair. We sit facing backwards by the bend in the 73. She attempts to muffle her chest-wrenching sobs and snotty tears with her hands. Middle of a relationship breakup, snorting snottily into the phone to a succession of girlfriends who are attempting to level some calm.

As I step out of the bus at Newington Green I catch the strains of a different conversation, "but, like, d'ya fancy 'im?"...it'll only lead to trouble.