After attending an anti-war protest in Hyde Park
A fatality on the line at Acton stops the trains leaving Paddington and we stare at the departure boards, eyes still stinging from the tear gas. Hours pass. Engines tick. The wind thrums under the canopy and my bones feel as if they’re losing themselves inside my skin. Then a guy rises from his seat, kneels at the feet of a girl. She takes his hand and they dance, gliding across the floor like the station is a ballroom. Beside me, you squeeze my thigh and for a moment I believe the world is not as bruised as it seems.
Photo Credit: Paul Narvaez
I love this story
Amazing what you can fit into a 100 word story ,
This is a wonderful little story — excellent! (And, memories of Paddington Station, too – so thank you for that, too).