She felt an urge to run. To run for the fields. To run for the trees. To feel under her feet something which wasn’t dead, which wasn’t tarmac, something which was organic, something real. Whatever that meant. She let her hair down. She stuck her hands in her pockets and pulled out her phone, her keys, her wallet. She gave a cry of alarm and threw them violently on the floor, as if they had burned her fingers. She walked out the door, leaving it unlocked and open. She started walking, fast, fast, her hair flying behind her like a black flag. Her eyes didn’t take in anything around her. Her ears were ringing. Her thoughts were mingling, intertwining voices, broken and desperate, convoluted and conspiring. She realized that she was in front of the train station. She walked past the ticket booth, ignored the protesting voice which told her to pay, to pay Miss, to pay. She stepped into the train just before the doors shut with a hiss and a sigh, found an empty seat, sat down and closed her eyes.


.