Train of thought

Train of thought.

Debussy holds all the secrets in this tale of boredom, revenge and a concert pianist.

I had only walked for a few minutes out of the station, but already I was soaked, miserable, and there were nine hours of this to go. Four more days before the weekend, when I could rest up and feel ready to do it all again. I passed a billboard advertising the channel tunnel, depicting sunny Paris and happy, smiling French faces. It was as if the blue skies I dreamed of with Debussy were only a train ride away. Was it that easy? Could I just turn around and walk against the crowd? Push myself back onto the train and into a better existence? I turned and stared at the clockwork mice as they scuttled past me. One swift phone call on the pretense of a winter cold, and I could be on my way, simple as that.