They stood on the platform, side by side with fingers entwined in a knowing clasp. There had been no words for several minutes. They just stood facing the line together, breathing simultaneous heavy sighs.
He hated these times, his heart always the same - deep rhythmic beats as they waited for the train to take her away. Small beads of sweat gathered under his trilby, giving away his anxiousness as they rolled down his temples. She must have seen from the corner of her gaze, for her fingers tightened, warm with re-assurance.
Across the platform, on the northern line, stood a young couple locked in an embrace so tight, that it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began; kissing with such passion it was as though their lives depended on the taste of the other’s lips. They watched, remembering back to the first time they had stood on the platform, a fondness for the memory made both of them smile; gone were the days of such physical goodbyes but flame still burned.
She lifted her free hand; red dry skin gave a sign of how age had caught up with her, similar to the mid September chill that tickled the back of her neck. Years ago she would have been like the young girl in the embrace – her legs bare, long and toned in a short yellow skirt and heels. She pulled her silk scarf close around her neck to stop the cold whisper. Where had time run away to? She looked at the gold watch on her wrist (her most recent gift that she would have to justify with a story of extravagant expenditure); it indicated that she had two minutes left. She turned to her everlasting love, his eyes sparkling with the dew of goodbye, his deep brown eyes still managed to leave her breathless. His eyes always said the same, twice a year, for forty years, they had begged her not to go and to leave him again, not to return to the life he was not part of. She thought about the day she had chosen her destiny and how she wished, all those years ago that she had listened to her heart.