The three girls sit across the aisle from me on the train. They stare in my general direction, and although I am not so vain to think of myself as the object of their eyes, it starts to feel personal after two stops. They have to angle their bodies in a very bizarre fashion in order to continuously stare in my direction; the squish of their limbs doesn’t look at all comfortable.
They vacate the two seats they were sharing when the train reaches Coventry. Their frigid stares and the spatial vacuum left in their absence haunts me for the remainder of my journey.
As they walk down the platform, they fan out into a V formation, synchronised steps drawing them closer to me, their heads turning to face me as their bodies change their viewing angle. I wonder whether I am in some way taunting them for a moment, searching my person for the focus of their attention.
But I find nothing, they walk away, and am left to wonder what they were so fixated on for the rest of my life.