Yesterday morning a man on my tube dropped dead. He was a sweet man with an infectious laugh. He held wicked and wonderful tales of his far reaching travels. He doted on his wife and two daughters. He was a kind, loving and generous neighbour. He was a man you dream to become and one you treasure to have met. 

Well, according to today’s paper. I avoided his gaze on yesterday morning’s commute.

© Carl Burkitt 2015