You're walking through a tube station.

Some flapping fucktorch starts belting it down the corridor like Linford even though it's the Central Line and there are trains roughly every 45 seconds...A lolloping mass of crippling idiocy, bags flailing this way and that...hurdles onto the train expecting an Indiana Jones moment.

The train doesn't leave.

You swan on about 15 seconds after this dustbin who's panting red-faced by the foldup seats.

You make a second and a quarter of eye contact

and cooly whip out a slim volume to bury your nose in.

The doors close.