Friday 24 April 2015

Why does he have an old phone? Why does it say 0900 as the time?

He’s perhaps a terrorist. That’s a rational thought. It’s what I’m thinking as I look over the right shoulder of the man sat nearest me on the tube.

THE PHONE IS A BOMB? THE PHONE IS THE DETONATOR? Probably the latter, the bomb is clearly the empty looking messenger bag on his lap.

He’s fiddling with his phone. That proves it. No-one messes with an OLD phone unless they are a terrorist.

How will my son react? Will he notice that I don’t come home. His mum will cry a lot. He will notice that. Maybe she won’t cry that much around him. I’d like to think she would. It’s pretty damning that she’s hypothetically not devastated by my hypothetical death. He’s too young to understand, Woody – not the terrorist.

I briefly wonder about this terrorist’s motivation. He’s white so it’s beyond me why he would do it: wrong decade for the IR eh? What’s he thinking in these, his last, minutes? Is he looking at the people on the train and having a change of heart? There are no kids. Fuck.

I consider asking him the time. WHY DOES HIS PHONE SAY 0900??? The terrorists aren’t very clever if they can’t make a bomb/detonator look like a phone. Shit, he’s taking the back off his phone and fiddling with the battery. This is definitely s a thing, this is definitely part of a bomb thing. Oh, it say’s 0901 now.

Shall I ask him the time? Bring up my child? Maybe he will wait until after my stop to blow the train up.

It’s not even like it’s a set amount of time in front or behind the time. At least I could understand that. I should get off at the next stop just in case. Now, in my head,  I’m somehow dying from something, lay in a bed having my last seconds. Woody is lay on me and I go and he’s lying on me waiting for me to react. But I can’t because I’m dead.

Shit – this short journey across London got really dark. I feel terrible. I can’t cope with the thought of not seeing him grow up. I don’t know what to do.

I look at a one of the two Polish lads across the aisle. He is watching whatever a girl is watching on her iPad. They’re not together. She has earphone on and is watching it.  He is watching it from the bottom corner of the eye nearest her. He seems like the kind of person comfortable at a party: a goodtime guy.

That was a better few seconds psychologically speaking.

The terrorist has put his detonator/bomb away. I think he might have decided against the attack. Maybe he’s not a terrorist.  SO WHY DOESN’T HE GET A MODERN PHONE OR AT LEAST SET THE RIGHT TIME, THEN? Does he know what I’ve been through the last few minutes?

I am now almost completely sure that all this was silly paranoia in my head. I get off a stop early just in case.

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