Laura

Laura was her name. It said so on her folder.

She was on the train.

Writing on her folder.

In a very decorative script.

Letter by letter.

Surreptitiously, another guy and I looked on.

As a sentence revealed itself.

“I’d kill myself to make everybody pay.”

Oh.

Dark nails, dark eye makeup, dark clothes.

Bag with a gloom and doom metal band patch on it.

Then her phone rang. She sounded not exactly chirpy, but not exactly down or suicidal.

She got off the train at Caulfield.

Hope you’ve got at least a little sunshine in your life, Laura.

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