She was petite and blonde. She had a big smile and I felt like protecting her.
I sat across from her on the bus. Two pints and a shared bottle of albarino (with a squiggle on the n) swirling around in my head. I was leaving the West End, heading back to safer ground, to my turf. I was leaving it to the youngsters and to the tourists, and they were welcome to it.
She had been at the bus stop and she didn't need protecting. She just looked so delicate and she had a big smile. Now she played with her iPod and looked out of the window.
At the bus stop she had been kissing a guy. It was a long kiss. She was on tip-toes. His arms were around her.
He watched her get on the bus. Now she played with her iPod and looked out of the window and thought of him.
She didn't need protecting but I felt like protecting what they had. In this crazy world it's one of the few true things left.
Unless he gives her herpes.
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