It was cold and empty - a symptom of the crisp late autumn air, the kind of weather that turns your breath to steam and your extremities into fumbling...appendages that lack grace. The top deck of the bus was barren bar myself and several discarded newspapers, the windows thick with condensation from the body heat of departed commuters, drops of water running rivulets down the glass-like beads of sweat between your lover's shoulders.I thought about how your fresh sweat would taste. That first. They all found a final burst of speed and shot down the road and into the car park. There were lots of family and friends waiting with beer and hugs, but Louise had nobody. Her mum was in Spain and her father had been absent for years. The last she'd heard of him was a post card informing her he was shacked up with some bar maid from Cardiff.She felt positively deflated now that the ride was finally over. It was a real anticlimax. Accepting a can of lukewarm lager from Gillian, she wandered. More

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