Tuesday, 8 November 2011

On the Way to Work

Obadiah Circumflex reached towards the handle of the door (although it could have been the handle of a car boot or the handle of a baby’s pram) and opened it. He left via the front door (although it could have been the back door, the bathroom door or one of The Doors) and made his way towards the tube station (although it could have been a tube of toothpaste, a cathode-ray tube or a misspelt tuba).
Once there, he bought a ticket for his destination (although it could have been a ticket for his dog, a ticket to the moon or a ticket to ride) and boarded the next train on platform 2 (although it could have been platform soles, a platform for debate or platform 3).
The interior of tube trains always made Obadiah Circumflex feel slightly ill at ease, especially when he hadn’t had much sleep the night before. The rattling rails weaved their soporific magic on him, and he drifted off (although he could have drifted away, drifted into shark-infested waters or simply drifted through life).

He never woke up.

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