Love at first sleight

Paddington. 11:14. A portly bespectacled mole-like man boards the train. He has a large rucksack that he has counterweighted with two carrier bags. In one he has an upper crust baguette, possibly chicken and bacon. In the other hand, a fresh four pack of Stella will be the ‘boisson du jour’. He lines up a can and the baguette neatly on the drop down table. At 11:18 the train moves off. The man celebrates by opening a can and tears into his feast, masticating heavily. He pulls out his phone and starts playing a game. He is the Candy Crush man. His chubby sausages feverishly go to work. Intermittently he slurps and chews. 11:31 Across the aisle, a young lady heavily caked in make-up pulls out a mascara brush from a bulging puce sack and starts adding an extra layer to her already saturated lashes. 11:33 the man looks up from his iPhone, quenches his thirst once more. He notices the lady. His sad eyes rest on her for a moment. Not in lust, more hope I think. 11:34 the lady suddenly stops applying general additions to her Picasso-styled visage. The mascara brush hovers as her eyes target in on the man. Their eyes meet, for a moment. He quickly diverts his gaze. She stares harder now; cruel lips part ‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ Estuary based vitriol. The man freezes for a second. He starts to pack up his stuff in panic. Spilling and dropping as he fumbles around in embarrassment. Her eyes are still fixed on him. He leaves the carriage. 11:42 She sees me typing. I think she knows what I am writing. Shit. 11:46 Reading.