16 April 2012
A Girl
She goes on the same train every day but today it was cold. The thick puffa jacket made her look even more like a ball than usual. Today her head just looked like a potato on a bed of fat, jutting out of the slightly metallic neck hole of her coat. Her gormless fish mouth rhythmically opening and closing, breathing in the putrid air of the carriage; her fishy eyes staring out, the thick rimmed glasses which had began to fog up, yet again, did nothing for her overall appearance. Her hair was thick. A cliched 'raven black', cut into an unflattering bob. This was her unsuccessful attempt to look mod, to look cool. She was fresh out of college but looked more mid-life crisis than prime of life.
She made the same old monotonous journey every day. Every day standing silent in the crowded carriage. Every day her glasses fogging up until her bulging eyes were covered, giving a remarkably accurate impression of a drowning toad. Every day going into the office, the only woman in a team of 20. And still they didn't give her any attention. She liked to think that they saw her as 'one of the lads', only deep down she know they didn't see her at all. She could probably come into the office one morning missing an arm and all she'd get was an unenthusiastic wave and maybe a half-hearted “morning” mumbled her way. If she was lucky. Every morning she wondered whether any of them even remembered her name. She didn't mind too much though. Never had been paid much attention by men. At school she had gone by unnoticed, not even any teasing or bulling. But then again, teasing and bullying meant that people acknowledged you existed, she was too inconsequential for that. No, men had never really been a part of her life.
The train pulls out of yet another station before her own and carries morosely on its journey. As it leaves the platform a man smiles at her and gives a little wave. She's too stunned to do anything so just stares and then recoils as a leggy blonde type pushes past her to go sit next to the smiling man. She reddens at her own foolishness but it is barely noticeable through her already ruddy cheeks. No sex yet she thinks, and as the train begins to pull into her stop, she tries to stop her own train of thought right there; but her thoughts carry on against her will, "No first kiss either", they whisper. She always had found it hard to ignore the truth. Maybe I should go straight for the desperate blow-job in a club toilet she thinks. But even the words sound ridiculous in her head. Some people just aren't made for copulation and companionship. She sighs as she shoves past the people who don't even seem to notice that she wants to get off the train. I wish I was taller.
The Lives Of Others: 1 • Opuss № I