The Edge of the Country

He thinks about her as he waits with umbrellared people in raincoats on the rush hour packed platform. The memories have never left. They return to pick vengefully at the bones of his life.

A train approaches, rocking on the rails like a drunkard. It groans to a halt, and travellers peer through bleary windows as passengers crowd on. To them, the journey leads to office blocks and banks in the city - a daily sojourn.

People sit bunched together reading newspapers; denying their forced intimacy. Others hang over them, clinging to parcel racks as sweat stains dull the whiteness of their shirts.

Allan watches them and reads their empty faces. Behind the pasty masks eyes move furtively, catching glances and darting away - preserving anonymity.

The train lurches and clatters through fading countryside. He feels relieved that at last he has decided to confront her. As the train draws him into the heart of the city, apprehension begins to drag at his determination.

"Like lambs to the slaughter," he mutters.

Nobody answers. Only the eyes dart.

[End of this extract. The full story was published in Time Out Net Books and in Gravity's Angels.]