It wasn’t that cold. Not really. No one had clouds of breath coming out of their noses when they breathed. No one blew into their clenched fists. For winter, it was actually a fair morning. Why doesn’t every person have the same tolerance of cold, or hot temperatures? No one else noticed and I’d thought myself into a dead-end long before the journey was over.
Bus 153 from Finsbury Park To Liverpool Street
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