He sits in the seat nearest to the door, a black holdall at his feet. He looks around sixty, bald but with a scruffy beard peppered white and grey. On the left side of his neck is a surprising tattoo; a pair of extremely lifelike red lips.
As the train speeds away from the platform, I catch a brief glimpse of a young man seated inside the carriage. He’s dressed in black head-to-toe except for a woolly hat, a bright yellow thing with a diamond pattern knitted into it and fluffy green leaves sewn onto the top. It’s a pineapple hat.
She’s one of the regular commuters that I often see on my way to work in the mornings. It’s hard not to notice her; she has a fun and unique sense of style. Today, she is sporting an ensemble that includes glittery hot pink ankle boots, a denim jacket covered in variously-sized fluffy pom-poms and a turquoise beret.