As we boarded the train, I noticed the white of a dog collar under the man’s scarf. Yet moments earlier, I had watched as he stood at the centre of the doors, impeding the passengers who needed to alight from the train. We sat down at the same bank of seats, and during our short journey together, I found myself glancing over at him. A smile played over his lips, strangely distracted, ambivalent, a smile hinting at the kind of inner life, which, I must admit, I didn’t naturally associate with religion. He sat with his thighs spread wide, impeding people as they walked through the aisles. When the train stopped at his station, I noticed a tissue fall from his pocket, which he left behind as he stepped onto the platform. This, I told myself, was hardly the behaviour one would expect from a man of the cloth.
Published by Dan Bennett
I'm a writer and poet. My first novel, All the Dogs, appeared in 2008, and was described by Niall Griffiths as 'a stirring debut, a compellingly written tract on the importance of finding a place on the earth.' My fiction has appeared in London Noir, Crimewave, Black Static and 3AM. I live in London, where, amongst other things, I teach Creative Writing for the Open University. https://absenceclub.com View all posts by Dan Bennett