The rhythmic clunk, reminiscent of how my heart would jump. Tracing the line, through an ordered mess, that led me to you. A breeze of displaced air whips the hair you never got to see; and carries whispers of regret of all I couldn’t be.

Good service could take me to you, brought together by the tube.

Engineering, delays, a burst water pipe I had to fight through. Even London Underground didn’t want this one

to become

a two.

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