Thrum of train rattle in lower vertebrae. Pulse of engine, wheels and rails entering him through coccyx-seat join. Juddering his blood, setting his muscle-threads to twitching. Sly pushing at his organs, gets his outerskin to itching. Aiming not to meet the eyes of any passing fellow-passenger. Hoping no-one sits beside and gets this feeling too.
Tuesday 20 December 2011
Train Sketch #1
‘Teacoffeesnacksanddrinks?’ the train attendant asks like a name in a roll-call as he passes by each row of seats. Nobody answers, and he trundles on down the aisle. The wheels of his cart rattle and crack just the same as the packets of crisps that are the only halfway nourishing food that he sells. An oversugared scent of spilled coffee clings to the air in his wake.
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