Palacial

I step off the train several stops after I intended after pouring my heart out to the woman with the cashmere scarf which I used to blow my nose. Oh god, I'm a ridiculous person. I follow the crowd of other 'customers' blindly through the winding corridors of the station, and don't realise until I am beyond the barriers that I've arrived, by default, at his station. The street with its palacial houses sprawls out before my eyes, and I, unthinkingly begin to walk toward number 174. I don't look where I'm going. Instead I focus on the gold numbers which shine in the afternoon sun. 158...164...168...172...174. I stop outside the wooden gate, my mind buzzes with anticipation as I wonder what I should say to him. Do I want him again? Am I feeling angry or guilty or jealous that he hasn't text me since she found out? I begin to sweat, pupils dilate, pulse quickens as my fingers unlatch the gate. Then I look up to the grand house with it's large windows and I see them, bodies entwined and shirtless. Her face creases into a playful smile as he unfastens her navy lace bra. I turn away and run.