A Sign

When I was on the Tube yesterday, I witnessed a reunion. Two men who hadn’t seen each other in years stumbled across each other on the Bakerloo Line. I left my headphones in, but turned off the music and listened in.

One man seemed desperate to impress the other. He asked lots of questions in a quiet, deferential way. While he looked the kinder of the two, his face was certainly more worn. His ‘friend’ on the other hand was plumper and flushed a sweaty red. He leaned in a lot to make himself heard. Though they both wore suits, it was clear the the Ruddy Buddy’s was the more expensive.

He whipped out a laptop.

“I’m off to Lords…need to figure out what exit I need to get to…”.

“Oh right..”

Tap.Tap.Tap. The worn man looked rueful. Whether that was for his short term or long term situation, I’m unsure.

As I got off at Oxford Circus, I heard: “…and I just got my power boat licence….”

“Oh right’.

I can’t glean much from this for Bump, but was fascinating to watch this situation unfold in real life. I wonder if either of them has kids…

So taken was I by this situation that I left my umbrella on the seat. Farewell, my lovely, may you brave many storms with another, finer gentleman.

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