Metro 2

She stands on the station platform on a chilly autumn morning, pulling her jade, woollen coat more closely around her for warmth. The sun is rising above the buildings opposite and then reaches a point where its rays hit the train tracks making them glow as if on fire. Although her eyes are partly shielded by her auburn fringe, the cold and the sunshine combine to make them water a little.

The train pulls in and she heads for her usual carriage. She quickly slides into a free seat while a woman with a suitcase bigger than she is clucks and fusses around, reservation in hand.

She opens the copy of Metro she picked up from the stand at the station entrance. She skims through articles about the duplicity of politicians, celebrities, many of whom seem only to be famous for being famous, and the latest health scare. She feels slightly queasy - a mixture of exhaustion from a week’s commuting to work, the sun shining on her through the window and the rocking of the train as she reads.

She reaches the section where readers send hopeful messages to those they admire from afar – those they know by sight in shops or cafes they frequent or fellow passengers on various forms of public transport. And there it is.

“To the red-haired, Christina Hendricks look-alike in the jade coat on the 8.01 to Leicester. I can’t stop thinking about you. Fancy a coffee sometime?”

Her cheeks flush. She glances around the carriage and sees that some of the other regulars are looking at her and smiling, a sign they’ve seen it too. She enjoys the warmth of their recognition. It really doesn’t matter that she placed the message herself.