“Laptops?”
“Check.”
“Mobiles?”
“Check”
“Credit Cards?”
“Check”
“Tablets, wifi passwords, address books?”
“Check”
“Sat Nav?”
“Check”
“Have you packed your smart suits and shiny shoes?”
“Yup”
“Right come on, let’s get on board”
Mary, Steve, Rob and Jenny hefted their rucksacks and waited for the commuters to climb onto the train and settle down, juggling their cases and newspapers and styrofoam coffees.
There was no room to sit: all the seats and aisles were packed with people trying to get to work, trying to prepare for work, wishing they’d prepared for work, or loudly discussing work on mobiles so that the rest of world could see how important they were.
Mary, Steve, Rob and Jenny didn’t mind. They stood, balancing between swaying carriages as the wheels rattled over the smooth rails. The refreshments trolley squeezed through and ran over their booted feet. The ticket collector raised his eyebrows at their destinations and scribbled random symbols.
Town by city by town, the commuters got off, leaving room to breathe at last.
Mary, Steve, Rob and Jenny moved into an empty carriage, opening the tiny window to let some air in and blow out the odours of perfume, panic and depression; watching the buildings recede as connurbations gave way to country side.
The train slowed as it started to describe a slow bend on top of a steep embankment. Below was a wide stretch of water, splendid in unvisited isolation.
“Laptop?”
“Check.”
“Mobile?”
“Check”
“Credit Card?”
“Check”
“Tablet, wifi passwords, address books?”
“Check”
“Sat Nav?”
“Check”
“Have you packed your smart suits and shiny shoes?”
“Yup”
“Right come on, shove them all out the window quick while we go round this bend before the ticket inspector comes back – we’re leaving it all behind and starting from scratch.”
Copyright 2016 by Paula Harmon. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission