Kings Cross underground station platform 5 smells faintly of soot. Nothing compared to the dirty, sticky, scent of the London underground, its tunnels are twice as big. The trains, double decker, platforms stacked openly on each other.
I'm carrying my rucksack, it's heavy and there's a warm dull pain in my shoulders. My bottle of water,s becoming a drip onto my leg, cold and soothing against my sticky sun tan lotion. I smell like the beach.
My phone rings
