The angel
Parked on the drab dank, harsh steps of Waterloo Station, deviding up a benson and hedge cigerette infrimth a boyfriend. This Saturday night is full of rejected drunks, and this time, we're not the drunkest; in compariosn we are doing quie well. Lost, paranoid foreigns try and pertend we don't exist —a few ask direction. We are spreading our quivering ,damp limbs alll other the sold floor, watching stumbling travellers battle with the escalator.
I looked down at my keep an eye on we had over 2 hours left. I start to grow angry at people with coats. As far as I can rember that is the time I felt the most cold and pitiful.
Thsi is when I first saw her! She shuffles out of the waiting room with the last of her strength. Her pink sweatpants has seen better days , and her feet are buried into city stained trainer form clearly two different types brands. On her face you could see the lines that had been worn out by tears.. They are eyes dazed with the work it takes to stay warm, and weary of the excess of privileged people.. They are eyes dazed with the work it takes to stay warm, and weary of the excess of privileged people.. I stared at $THOSEGLASSEYES and think about how harden humans can become ; that I'm too cold to move , and all I am doing is making my way home to my warm house.
She produced her trembling, decrept hand.
I ook though my purse $FIND nothing at all.
As she moved away the staton seemed to consumed her bedevilled, sad frame.
I Light up another fag. The second seem to drag on , forever we coul dnot see the end.. I start to even the sleeping beggar at least they feel at home.
Then for seemly no reason the old lady returns. A wrinkled hand, heavy with pleading, had come back.
She carefully placed two fifty pence pieces Inot my lap and said, " get yourself a cup of coffee. God bless you."
The city swalllowed her up once more before we had any chance to refuse .