A 21st Century Romance

Getting off the train dressed in yesterday’s clothes, Aidan’s fingers smell of Karen.

There is noise as a helicopter lands nearby. Beyond the ticket barriers, policemen stand, stubby black rifles drooping across potbellies at forty-five degrees.

It’s going to happen today, he thinks.

Last night, Karen’s parents were away. Curled together on the sofa watching MTV, he’d made her ignore the vibration of silent telephone calls and texts.

Finding the drinks cabinet, after weeks of just kissing, they touched each other for the first time, fumbling and unfamiliar. Karen was wearing the same underwear as the photo she’d sent him by email.

Later, in darkness, flicking through channels, at first they thought the reports were from films. Across central London, ten bombs exploded like firecrackers, drawing a line of smoke and fire and screaming.

Huddling together at sunrise, Aidan held Karen.

“It’s like we dreamed it,” she’d said, moving closer.

“Whatever happens, I’ll be back tonight,” he said, leaving her blinking at the front door of the empty house.

Standing for a moment on the station concourse, watching the policemen, Aidan thinks: I’m going to lose my virginity on the day London burned.

Almost lighting a cigarette, Aidan smiles, thrilled.