“Oh, oh, oh,” said the woman.
“Oh, oh, oh (*build to climax – she doesn’t actually say this. This is a ‘stage direction’*) oh,” she screamed.
“Get off my fucking toe!”
Bob shuffled away.
He had his earphones in;
The noise cancelling function on;
He hadn’t even heard her.
There was silence in the carriage,
Then someone giggled.
Some Spanish tourists avoided eye contact.
“Sorry,” Bob said.
The woman said it was ‘ok’ in a way that meant it really wasn’t.
When Bob came to get off the train at Warwick Avenue,
He trod on her other foot again.
Except this time it was the other one.
Kneeing him in the ball.
Bob stumbled out the doors and keeled over.
The woman started kicking him and hitting him with the expensive handbag her manipulative bastard of a soon-to-be-ex-husband had given her for their last anniversary together.
As the blackness enveloped Bob, all he could do was whisper,
“Bugger. I forgot to…”