I was the guy in the blue shirt that picked up your wallet for you at Kings Cross. Now I finally know where you live.
You saw me staring at your feet on the Central Line. You wear flipflops in the rain. I’ve got the high forehead and pale complexion. Foot rub? QT
I saw you going down the escalator while I was going up. I wish I had been going down too. Drink?
Girl in the fishnet tights and blue jacket. About 5’7”, petite build. You study English and were easily impressed when I told you I spoke Italian. If you actually exist outside my imagination get in touch.
The last train back to Ealing Broadway. You were the young girl passed out spread over three seats with copious amounts of side-boob on display, I was the kind stranger who mopped up your dribble and stopped your WKD from slipping out of your grasp. I’d love to buy your next one for you, get in touch.
I saw you on the Northern Line. You were wearing an extremely short skirt and a pink thong was peeking out of the top. I had to hide my love bulge behind my paper, but next time we meet I won’t hide anything from you. Get in touch. And bring your friend.