Going Home

Its dark as work ends. We huddle into our coats as we wait for the train. Staring down the track longing to see the faint yellow glow of its windows rounding the corner.

On the train 3 sarf london men chat about trainers. Particularly a pair of red and cream converse that one of them was wearing when he met a bird from Southend. Generous arse, gold heels. His hand gesture seemed to imply he enjoyed her.