‘Excuse me, I think you left your bag at the ticket machine.’
The aging lady turned around and raised her thick rimmed and over-sized sunglasses to rest upon her head and stared at the boy. He stared back awaiting a response that did not come and so he pointed her gaze towards the machine. She adjusted her golden chained handbag and let out a gasp and rushed over to where the bag lay. Hunched over and fumbling along the ground she eventually picked up a piece of litter she may have dropped and then turned back to face the boy and smiled. Confused as to why she hadn’t noticed the bag less than a foot away he pointed again and said, ‘Is that your bag?’ She turned again and picked it up and in a thick foreign accent spoke.
‘Oh thank you very much! My husband was carrying the bag. My husband. My husband was carrying the bag.’ She pointed towards the boy.
The boy looked around. It was very late and they were the only ones in the station. He glared at her and tried a comfortable smile and replied, ’You’re welcome.’