As I stood on the small frosty platform waiting for a train that seemed an eternity away, I looked up at the painfully blue sky. The sharp twangy taste of green olives haunted my mouth and my coarse hair obscured my vision in the biting wind and I placidly contemplated others near me. An impatient, foot tapping, expensive coat wearing doll glared about her, angry at the way things are and where is that god damn train and I wonder if those shoes are still on offer where was that place again and oh my god I can't believe that slut Lorraine last night oh whatever his shoulders weren't broad enough for me anyway and where is that god damn train.
As her thoughts steadily wafted about in a cloud of banality, I buried myself, looking down into the dark, cold, slightly clammy gap between my dress and the inner stitching of my coat, breathing in the odour of my deodorant and a dress that hadn't quite dried properly and Triston's Calvin Klein eau de toilette and that unmistakeable scent of crisp, clean cold. I pulled my upper lip towards my nose to sniff the aloe vera of my cheap lip balm, left a sticky residue on my philtrum and unburied myself from the little haven of familiarity.
A rustling sound caught my hazy attention and I glanced towards a spindly tree to my right, with bleak branches leaning precariously over the platform. Balanced on one of these branches were two young squirrels, entwined in each other, kicking, biting, nuzzling, their bushy tails moving delicately in the early evening rawness. I looked at the man to the right of me; large, red, with glazed eyes and a small attractive mouth, warm dragon's breath smoking from it into the numb air. I thought about my father; how thin and yellow he would appear next to this confident beast. I thought about whether red or yellow was a more attractive pallor. I thought about whether 'beast' was an insult or a heavily-laden compliment. I decided on olive.
(work in progress)
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