The floor vibrates under my feet. The tube jerks. My hand slips and I stumble. Whirls of faces.

My forehead bumps something hard.

I look up. She looks up.

Rubs her head, smiles silly and we both stand up.

She looks away. Strangers again.

She’s wearing a suit. Nice. It suits her. I smile at my own pun. Smile at the idea that maybe one day she’ll hear it.

She checks her phone. No signal down here silly, we’re underground. I want to say to her.

She tuts with her perfect mouth. She must be running late. Poor thing. That’s just British transport sweety, you can never rely on it. I say to her. In my head.

The tube jerks again. This time both of us are ready. We catch eyes and she smiles again.

The doors swing open and she teeters out with perfect black heels.

The tube moves on.

Where did you get those shoes? I want to ask her. I can never find black heels I like, but yours, well, they’re absolutely perfect.

Maybe next time you’re around, she’ll say, we can shop for them together. Maybe check out the sales.

Hmm let me check my calendar I’ll say. My heart beating fast. Knowing it’s empty anyway.

Oh, I’ll say, I’m not free tomorrow but maybe Saturday?

Great, she’ll say, see you then, she’ll say. We’ll go out afterwards. It’ll be fun. She’ll say.

And just like that we’ll be BFFs. That’s what she’ll call us. It’s a little lame for me, but it’ll sound nice when she says it.

The tube doors slide open. More violently this time. I get out.

Footsteps echoing.

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