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The Fall

She watched a drip at the end of the old man’s bulbous nose. It swayed with the movement of the tube train. Hypnotised by the notion that, like a teardrop, it would fall at any moment; she was unable to tear her eyes away. A bent human bundle of dark rags, probably homeless. Red, ropey hands with filthy black fingernails were clasped around a disintegrating and bulging white plastic bag. The drop glistened in the unforgiving neon lights overhead. The train went momentarily dark as it entered a tunnel. She closed her eyes. Light restored, she opened them – it had gone.



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