The search for a lost book changes lives forever.
I was dozing when the train jerked to an abrupt halt. The newspaper slid off my lap and, as I fumbled around on the filthy floor to retrieve it the lights flickered, went out for a second, then recovered their unforgiving glare.
The train was silent. I was hungry and tired and hoped we hadn’t broken down. I’d read the paper and struggled with the crossword at the beginning of the journey and my bored gaze now wandered over the shabby seats and littered floor. Then my eye was caught by a book lying under the next seat. How had I missed it when picking up the paper?
Stretching my shoulders, I looked at my reflection in the window against the dark night. How would someone outside see me? Fortyish, receding, an air of responsibility, probably a lawyer – which is true – or, heaven forbid, an estate agent. An predictable boring man with a boring life. Surreptitious glances at other reflections revealed only a couple of fellow commuters further along the carriage: one asleep and one tapping earnestly on a laptop.
After a few minutes more tedium, I reached out with my foot and dragged the book over. It had an old fashioned matt blue binding with the title, “The Antidoteâ€, in gold lettering on the spine. I opened it and was surprised to discover crisp white leaves and, as I flicked to chapter one, the unmistakable new book smell that enticed me to read on...
I was dozing when the train jerked to an abrupt halt. The newspaper slid off my lap and, as I fumbled around on the filthy floor to retrieve it the lights flickered, went out for a second, then recovered their unforgiving glare.
The train was silent. I was hungry and tired and hoped we hadn’t broken down. I’d read the paper and struggled with the crossword at the beginning of the journey and my bored gaze now wandered over the shabby seats and littered floor. Then my eye was caught by a book lying under the next seat. How had I missed it when picking up the paper?
Stretching my shoulders, I looked at my reflection in the window against the dark night. How would someone outside see me? Fortyish, receding, an air of responsibility, probably a lawyer – which is true – or, heaven forbid, an estate agent. An predictable boring man with a boring life. Surreptitious glances at other reflections revealed only a couple of fellow commuters further along the carriage: one asleep and one tapping earnestly on a laptop.
After a few minutes more tedium, I reached out with my foot and dragged the book over. It had an old fashioned matt blue binding with the title, “The Antidoteâ€, in gold lettering on the spine. I opened it and was surprised to discover crisp white leaves and, as I flicked to chapter one, the unmistakable new book smell that enticed me to read on...