remote cards

She sits in the corner of the carriage. A mass of barely contained curls, unruly and wild on her head. She wears a short sleeved, cut off cardigan over a vest top. A mass of barely contained cleavage threatening to pop from plunging neckline. Blue jeans, black sports shoes, a black branded bag, something professional, then a big hand bag, white, with pink flowers. She footers with her MP3 player the entire journey. Watching its bright screen, pink head phone cables swallowed by the valley. The music is loud, across the aisle we can hear a woman’s voice, some pop snarl, and slow soul beats. I glance over at the start of a new song, and she is just smiling in a happy fashion. While everyone else looks bored or anticipatory - people checking their hair, their make-up, reading the free papers. Not happy, not obviously.

Labels: cleavage, glasgow, happy, music, train