Found this in my ‘misc work’ folder just now.
It was originally written as part of Tangents 50-word story series

1.
The boy stared into my eyes. ‘Sorry. I’m late,’ he lied. I hiccupped. His beard hurt like Neil Morrissey’s. ‘I ran all the way,’ he said. He wore dirty black jeans, and a scarf out of fashion even in the 50s. We embraced, turned on our heels and left.

2.
Communication. Every evening, IPC media moguls visit the offices of one of their leading brands and ask, ‘Where is the soul?’ They should sing it. ‘Where is the soul? Where is the soul?’ It could be a Top 40 smash, like Kylie – bubbling, drab, hurtful, dumb and accessible.

3.
One girl sleeps. Another moans. A woman, old, legs crossed, makes sketches as the train rattles through the night. No one notices: too busy, sleeping, moaning or chatting inanely into electronic devices. Someone chews meat. Gum disfigures seats. The lady throws the sketches away, unsatisfied.

4.
In the centre, crowds coagulate. Pizza slops down a front: a girl with lip studs and a smiley Nirvana T stumbles into the kerb. Many words are exchanged. I walk, eyes down, looking for pizza or a magazine. ‘How’s the coffee?’ ‘Piss weak.’

5.
Years ago, Jad stayed the night. We drank peppermint tea and laughed. In Cricklewood. The next day, he cut out an intricate paper heart. Photos were taken. He left the heart behind. It now hangs framed, backed by shiny silver, above our Victorian bed.