Three Words: Part Three.

by | Jun 1, 2024 | Uncategorized | 1 comment

He looked up at the display, waiting for it to turn to English.

He could neither believe his action nor her compliance with it. As she took a seat beside him, he felt her thigh brush his.

Instantly, he brought his legs together but the prickly tingle lingered at the point of contact. Like pins and needles. He took out his phone and selected the app. English to Japanese.

He typed a some letters and held the device to her face.

“Where are you going?”

Quickly she tapped her screen and it came to life. A few more touches and she reciprocated the actions.

“Where do you want to go?”

He almost fell off his seat at the words he saw. Shuffling around, he turned to her and tilted his head back to take in her proximity. She was electric. The parting in her hair was immaculate, the skin on her brow flawless. The two eyes were like a brace of the most precious pieces of jet that had fallen from a North Sea Cliff and been fashioned by its waves.

These, the only features visible above the mask formed a smile broader than the most exquisite mouth. She looked down and typed again.


“Midori. What’s yours?”

He was floundering now. Like a fish that had been forsaken by a storm tide. His lungs gasping for air like the gills of the beached codling.


He typed, the feeling gone from his fingertips.

Around them and unknown to the couple, phones had been deserted in favour of this cross cultural soap opera. Commuters reluctantly alighted at their stops, craning their necks to obtain a last glimpse of the couple. Ancient men and women shook their heads in bemusement, tutting loudly.

“Nice to meet you Ben. Now, where would you like to go?”

At the next stop, she stood up abruptly and turned to him. The two pieces of Whitby Jet doubled in size and he understood their request. He tried to stand but his legs didn’t work. As she disappeared through the sliding door of the car, he gripped the strap above his head. The door alarm signalled and he hauled himself to his feet, in time to see the doors closed on her pleading face.

His heart sank at the motion of the train, taking him away from his treasure island. The waves had engulfed the stranded fish but he wanted more than anything to be back on those dry pebbles, gasping for breath. He looked up at the display, waiting for it to turn to English.





Ben made a mental note of the next stop and consulted the map.


Four minutes walk back. If he ran, possibly two and a half. Would she even be there?

The announcement sounded and the car stopped. He leapt from the train, followed by a hundred dark eyes, secretly egging him on before returning to their screens, the morning’s strange events forgotten.

1 Comment

  1. Ken Childs

    Reminds me of a bus journey from Beach Road to Newcastle early one Saturday morning in my early twenties. Beautiful looking girl sat opposite we gave each other nervous glances. At Civic Centre stop she stood up and asked me if this was as far as it goes and alighted from the bus. I remained on for the final stop. For a long time that troubled me.


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