She leapt through the closing doors just seconds before it closed. However the doors still were unable to close as the little stuffed toy hanging at the end of the keychain which hung on her bag squashed between the squeezing metal. The force tore the metal clasp and the toy fell to the floor of the platform. The man witness it fall and picked it up, "You dropped your bear!" he said. She tried to retrieve it but couldn't in a split second as the doors of the train closed.
It's not a bear, it's a Swedish Elk
The man held it up to the glass. She stared through the train windows - unable possess it. "I wonder if he will keep it? Souvenir of a piece of someone else's past. Or will he bin it outside the tube station?"
The underground train began to move - the familiar howling Whoooooo with an underlying clanking like a mad symphony, seeming to come alive. She has a theory about the tubes. The trains move like live things all across London - parallel, adjacent, criss-crossing - worms in the belly of London. As the train rushes through the tunnels, the life force of the thousands of people on the train get sucked out by osmosis, left behind as microscopic auric debris underneath the udders of the city. That's why one feels extremely tired and drained after a journey on the train and spiritually low people jump off the tracks- their souls drawn by the life forces of the underground.
