NE
NE
He’s a loud chewer. Persistent saliva. Audible enjoyment.
[adding #traingrumble for bonus points.]
Listens to videos unmuted on his i-phone-S-something.
Arabic across the bottom, English out the speakers.
Smells. A bit. Excited.
Give me the crying baby any day [tweet sent].
Clack, swish, swallow…goes his spit.
Takes out the packet [#another?!]—give him an Eye.
“Would you like?”
—Pronounced very carefully.
“Wold…yo…liiiiiike?”
“No.” Pointed. Arsey. Hair flouncy. But also—
“Thanks.” Because he did offer.
“In Edinburgh, where is…Esterroad?”
“Sorry?”
“Esterroad?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
Floodgates open—apparently.
“Where are arab shops?”
“Sorry?”
“Shops on a street to buy arab food?”
“Sorry—I have no idea. I’m not from Edinburgh.”
Mostly true.
“And esterroad? For the football?”
Stroking his scarf.
“Qatar. My team.”
“I don’t follow the football—sorry.”
“No, it’s a friendly!”
Big smile. Many happy teeth.
“Like us!”
CHARLEY MILES