She was pushing into my back so I pushed back.
She pushed again so I said, "Excuse me, would you mind stop pushing."
She said, "Why don't you move in?"
I said, "I can't, this gentleman is in the way. Why don't you move in?" What I meant to say was, "What am I, a bloody hobbit?"
She looked at the small gap and pushed her way through. "Well, I can fit it." She almost looked pleased with herself, as much as one can be when one is squashed like a sardine in a hot, smelly tube carriage first thing in the morning.
"Good for you," I said. "And have a nice day." It's good to be polite.
She grumbled and turned her back on me. Then everyone ignored everyone again as we all swayed rudely into each other through the long tunnels under the city.
For a fleeting moment at least, two strangers made contact in this fragmentised society. Not good contact, granted, and, on reflection, another date opportunity shot to pieces.
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