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On Ricky Gervais’s Humanity

Dashing to the tube station. Need to get across town. It’s peak hour. It’s going to take forever. Hands are too shaky, Oyster card fumbles to the ground. Bending to pick it up and almost collected by the post-work crush. Finally through the tube barrier. Racing down the stairs. Eyes darting to the list of stations. Need to make sure I’m headed the right way. Stomach filled with butterflies. Blind butterflies smashing into each other rather than calmly flitting through the air. Breathe.
Platform. Not as crowded as expected. Small mercies. Check the next train. That’s the one. Stand in the space next to where, hopefully, the doors will open. Train approaching. Stand back from the line. Mind the gap. Train car almost empty. Get a seat! Fumble in my bag for, what? Music? A book? Too distracted. Stare out the window instead. Will I make it in time? Will I?
Pulling into Hammersmith. Last stop. People sauntering this way and that. Why aren’t they moving quicker? Move quicker! …

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