I’m sitting on the train. I’ll be getting home late and I just want to be in the coccoon of my flat right now. It’s an effort not to cry, but I’m managing-just.
I’m looking at my fellow passengers and wondering who else is going home alone, to a weekend with nobody but themselves for company. And I have to admit, it’s hard to tell. I could be in a carriage full of lonely people-people who might welcome a diverting conversation just as much as I would, but I would never know.