"Journey's end in lover's meeting" (-Twelth Night, Shakespeare)

Title not mine. Obviously. WARNING: SWEAR WORD Just a short piece about absolutely nothing. Wrote it in half an hour, because I felt like writing something.

We are on the tube. There's an old lady asleep next to me, centimetres from imprinting the shape of her wrinkles onto my jacket with her foundation. She's wearing smart clothes, all recently laundered - it's what the elderly do. It's endearing. I would feel sorry for her, but she's just an old lady I've never met, and she's made her decisions. I know you haven't been black-mailing her into it. And besides, I know I'll be like her one day, too.

The business woman standing next to you is making me feel uncomfortable. She's definitely on her period -otherwise she'd be better at controlling her hormones, and not trying to undress you with her eyes. I meet her's once, and she looks back at me; I look away after a while because I feel a bit uncomfortable too. 

I can't find anywhere comfortable to keep my eyes at afterwards. I can't keep checking on you (I don't want to be like that woman, because I'm not like her) and the whole portion of the carriage that you're in has her in too and I feel too embarrassed to look over. My eyes are shifting restlessly and so I look at the floor.

The floor is no better. It just shakes and occasionally groans. It makes me wonder what it'd be like if I threw you onto the floor and told you that you could never stand up; I wonder if you'd eventually synchronize your breaths the track's or to the passengers'. Would you start stubbornly, refusing to let yourself fall over? I don't know that like it if you simply moved with the carriage; it doesn't seem like you at all. If I told you to fight it, and you did, I don't know if I'd like that either.  

You don't seem like the type, with your stubborn chin, to simply take orders - I bet you'd be terrible in the army. Equally, you don't seem like the type to disagree just to be contrary (your clothes speak volumes). 

I look up, to ask you. Earl's Court - fiendish. Of course you got off here. It's the kind of useless nondescript place that you would. 

Our tube is moving again. And that stupid b***h took your seat. 

Author's Note

Hmp, I couldn't feel bothered to think of an original title. It really is just a drabble. Guess what the genders are.
This was more just a practice in writing styles and a little in grammar. (My grammar is terrible, as can be seen here.)

Reviews

[TLK]

The idea of "synchronising breaths" is very good, and I might have to steal it.

The genders are either FINN and JAKE or FIONNA and CAKE -- that is all I understand.