Alex swept out of his heavy front door, his tie partially tied and his black jacket buttoned into the wrongs holes, and ran/stopped all the way down the dreary streets of Keighley, to platform two, looking a little like a battered, asthmatic kite in a vile wind.
A flood of attractive sweat poured out of every pore, allowing him to slide gracefully through the closing train doors. He tried to avoid the bemused gazes and slumped into the first vacant seat he came upon. It felt like ground-hog day again:
Late to bed, late to rise, gives our Alex blood red eyes.
Although, he knew he’d been like this since he was small, it was only since Janey had left that he saw his faults glowing brightly.
There he was again, thinking about her.
She was his ‘Whole lotta Rosie’: Argumentative, opinionated, self-important and bombastic, all these things he knew. She was also kind, funny and, in ways he could not describe to others, very, very, sexy.
He closed his eyes to try and relax his mind.