Monday morning.

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An escalator carves its way deeper into the underground.
I am almost carried by the swell of the crowds, hurrying to board their train.
The air is thick with Monday and still full of sleepy dreams, bleary eyes and creased shirts.
Excuse me, sorry, can I just, do you mind?
I catch a gaze that was never meant to be thrown.
We nod to each other and acknowledge.
And amongst the hustle, we are humbled just to be people again.

 

 

 

 

Copyright Rich Harris. 2016.

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