journeying, a fragment

Its early morning. Too early for light, not early enough to feel like night. My fingers chafe against the straps, before I decide to hoick the bag onto my back, over the overcoat. My head is cold, my skin feels dry already. I hunch a little as I walk- to ease the burden, and also from the way the body tenses in the cold. Next to me, she pulls the woolly cap tighter over her head, notices me noticing it, and smiles. I smile back. Then I grin, and look ahead to the bus station we are approaching. I can feel the thrill running through both of us. We are on the move again.

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