sent from: London, UK. destination: Weybridge, Surrey, UK

She had on a white dress shirt and thin pencil skirt that started above her waist and gave up not far beyond it, leaving a length of smooth bronzed legs to complete the journey to the ground. She had blonde hair, clear blue eyes and skin that made you think she was from South Africa or Australia. Skin that was used to being in the glare of the sun, comfortable with its harsh gaze, like that of every man on the train, who all pretended they weren’t craving a look, making it that much more obvious. Her hair was tossed casually over her shoulders and her shirt unbuttoned almost down to South Africa in a way that suggested she’d have it that way even if it weren’t one of the hottest days of the year.
She sat casually opposite a man twice her age, and the way her leg brushed against his and the glances they exchanged suggested he’d done more than just gaze on her.
Sometimes I wondered.
Today was a day for wondering, until your brain cooked in the heat of it.