I peered down at my observe we had just under 2 hours left. God what I would do for some themal socks. I felt so extermely pitiful and wretched.

Their she was! She climbed across the plateform with the final of her willpower. Her crimson sweatpants have seen better days , and her feet are ratteling around in school shoes. Her eyes look like they've seen so much sadness they're forever doomed to apathy.. One of her eyes seemed to have leak and it was clear that she was nearly blind.. Her eyes look like they've seen so much sadness they're forever doomed to apathy.. I looked at her withered face and imagining what drove her to this point ; that if I could not deal with 2 hours then I woudl never last as long as her , and all I'm upto is waiting for the last tain home.

She produced her shaking, weak hand.

We turn out our pockets but we have nothing at all.

As she moved away the staton seemed to swallows her racked, sad silhouette.

I search in my bags for a packat of fags. I stare for a while envoisuly at the couple takig up the only bench.. My body convusrse, almost like it is beggin me to find warth.

Then suddley the beggar tlady reappears.. Her boney weak hand, trembling with malmtrison, is now answering.

She put two fifty pence pieces into my palm and says, " get yourself a cup of coffee. It can get cold out here."

The darkness gulps her up again before we had a change to say thank you .

Their she was! She shuffles out of the waiting room with the last of her strength. Her red sweatpants are tinged with brown , and her feet are cramed into city stained nike trainers. She limped as she walked, not like out of pain , but just because she was in too much pain to stop.. Her hair was so wispy it remined me of the damiblions we used to blow when we were children.. On her face you could see the lines that had been worn out by tears.. I'm looking at $THOSEGLASSEYES and wondering how this happen to her ; that I fell like I am nearly dead after only two hours , and all I'm upto is waiting for the next train.

Out comes her trembling, decrept mit.

We look through our pockets but find nothing but reciepts.

As she moved away the staton seemed to swallolled her descending, sad shadow.

Ligh another cigerette The second seem to drag on , forever we coul dnot see the end.. We are pushing reluctant time forward as it digs its heels in at the dusty smells and sounds of old stories, at the sucking of smoke, at our involuntary shivers.

Then the beggar woman returns. Her boney weak hand, tendling with old age, is now answering. She dropped a small pile of change into my hand and said, " I think you need a cup of tea. God bless you." Darkeness swalllowed her up again before we had a change to say thank you .