Sebulon

By sebrose

Otto’s aftermath

I wake early and drink apple tea with Olly. Theresa chooses from the materials that my mother donated for something suitable to make me a shirt. It’s going to be yellow batik.

I take the overground to Clapham Junction, where I change onto a Victoria bound service that is full of folk with huge suitcases. Then down to the underground for the final leg to King’s Cross.

My phone flashes up a notification - my train has been cancelled, but i can take any other service. I’m a good 30 minutes early, so I jog through the tunnels and squeeze myself into an earlier train, going all the way to Inverness.

Sitting next to me is a 2nd year Biomechanical Engineering student from Stirling called Poppy. She tries to freak me out with some 3D modelling software, sings the praises of Matlab, and disparages C++. And when we have to change onto a diesel train at York, she rushes over to save us seats, while I lug her infeasibly heavy suitcase across.

Kerry meets me at the station and takes me home. I light the fire and we eat her chorizo and lentil soup. The throw that she has bought looks good on the large sofa. Relax.

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