Shuttlecock

[30]

Tuesday. In the Tube today, a strange incident. The train stopped for a long time at Stockwell. Word got round that someone had been taken ill in one of the carriages; and, looking down the platform, we saw him: a short, chubby man with thin wisps of hair, being led away by a couple of porters. His jacket and tie were crumpled over one arm. His shirt was partly unbuttoned. His exposed chest glistened with sweat. And as they led him to the exit his face was reddened and contorted. He was crying like a child.

And the strange thing was the expression of everyone watching. Perhaps they felt shock, pity, curiosity. Perhaps they even felt a little bit afraid. But the dominant look on their faces was one of satisfaction, of relief, even of renewed strength.