(part I)

Four rows ahead of me, past the door and sitting quietly, there is a girl with short, spiky blonde hair - black roots - and walkman earphones plugged in, pouding out what I would guess is techno/trance or punk/ska. Her narrow shoulders are slumped slightly, and just from the back of her head, she seems familiar.

Another girl, outfitted in a formal private school uniform including straw hat, makes her way by to exit the carriage. I notice her sparkly blue fingernails and smile, and see that the spiky-haired girl is watching her too. I have seen her face now - light caramel skin and muted Asian features, perhaps a Filipino-Anglo mix. She is more familiar now - I recognise her from university, we were in the same literature class together. I want to go up to her and ask, "Is that you, Em?" but I'm afraid I'll be greeted witht he same blank look I'd receive if she were actually a complete stranger.

I wish I'd stayed in school long enough to make some friends.

(part II)

The train slides into Flinders St. Station; the girl stretches and prepares to stand up. I catch a flash of red - I recognise her bag, an old vinyl airline bg. Yes, it's her. A flash of silver - her familiar nosering. It's Em, and she sees me - but I doubt she recognised who I am. I tried so hard to be invisible back then that I think I may have actually succeeded.

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