The Train
It was just outside Kettering that she dozed off. The warm air wafting out of the radiators below her feet was like a balm on that chill, murky autumn day. The almost hypnotic pitter patter of the rain on the windows didn't help, either. All alone in the carriage, her toes subconsciously curled and uncurled as she slept. As the train lurched out of Northampton it was a wonder that she didn't hear him burst in, just as the doors were closing, near enough guillotining his arms as he prised his way through the gap.
He sloped in to the main part of the carriage and then crept his way down between the chairs, his legs a silent blur that you couldn't even be sure he was using to propel himself. He licked his lips as he looked this way and that before finally, noticing that the carriage was all but emtpy, coming to rest in the seat opposite her. His nostrils twitched. The scent of her perfume, mixed with the sweat from running to catch the train at Watford surrounded her like an aura. He leaned towards her and closed his eyes, then inhaled deeply. A twisted half smile decorated his face as he sat back into his chair and stretched out his long, gangly legs, almost close enough to touch hers.
His eyes widened as he pored over her. Moving his head, changing the angle, taking it all in. He sat back down, reached into the pocket of his long coat and retrieved a comb, with several of the teeth missing. He tugged it through his greasy, thinning hair and then wiped the residue off with his hand, and in turn onto the upholstered chair beside him, before replacing it. He reached into his other pocket now and rustled around for what seemed like a lifetime before pulling out a large packet of cheese. Fiddling with the wrapper, he opened it and began eating it like a chocolate bar, chewing great chunks off the corners. He chewed with his mouth open, watching, waiting for her to wake up.