Mel Goes To Hell

The Morning Commute

Mel waited on the station platform with all the other besuited commuters. The train arrived, packed like a sardine tin.

A man behind her muttered, “I survived the London Tube every day – no worries getting on this!”

Mel waited whilst two people squeezed out of the car before she sidled inside, reaching for a metal pole to keep her balance when the train started. A recorded message warned her that the doors were closing.

“Nope, not getting on this one,” the Tube survivor moaned as the doors shut, leaving him standing foolishly on the platform.

The train picked up speed rapidly and the man behind Mel almost fell on top of her. When he straightened up, she became far more intimately acquainted with the stranger’s briefcase than she’d ever thought possible. She thought about accidentally stomping on his foot, but decided that would only make the situation worse, because if he jumped up the briefcase would go up, too. With the corner of the briefcase jammed up her arse, she idly wondered what would happen if she farted.

She sighed and closed her eyes. The stranger behind her sighed, too, sending a breath down her shirt to the lucky bra she always wore on her first day at a new job. She struggled to maintain her equilibrium and vowed that if she felt the man’s hand move at all, she was going to make sure the whole train knew he was a groper and not the fish, either.

The train stopped at the next station and the man with the penetrative briefcase got out. Seeing a spare seat, Mel took it, straightening her skirt as she sat down. She took out her phone and started reading an addictive story about demons, zombies and an Amazon queen, battling on the surface of Mars.

She felt almost relaxed again as the train arrived at her station and she trudged up the escalators for her first day working for Health, Environment, Life and Lands.