The young man stares around desperately at his fellow seekers of sanctuary or, perhaps, as his inferiority-complexed mind is beginning to suspect, at his animosity-ridden, smoking enemies, who could be awaiting the outcome of this difference of opinion, hoping for an old-school-tie victory and license to smoke in the smoker’s hell of a no-smoking carriage.

He continues to survey every face in sight from his position next to the bare-shouldered blonde, but most are camouflaged by morning papers and the remainder have eyes that stare hard into empty space, attempting perhaps to stare through solid matter into the next carriage. All ears seem insensitive to the pressure waves of objection made by a lonely, defiant voice. All except one pair.

As his head rotates in its final search for moral support, his eyes are drawn by dark, wide-set pupils belonging to the same petite head as the only pair of ears (small, chocolate-coloured ears) to hear his worthy cause. She views him understandingly, with an intangible closeness, and coughs sympathetically as a nauseous wave of finely divided particles abuses her pert, chocolate-coloured nose. This small glimmer, this faint hint of a way to gain a casual acknowledgement from his mysterious beauty (a pathway to heavenly hellos, delightful debates and even – who knows? – a rapturous romance) spurs him to a decisive action. "For summer and my chocolate-coloured beauty!" He trembles excitedly.

Return to stories