I entered the train. It was so busy I start feeling uncomfortable - it increases as I feel my back on someone else’s back. After a while, some people leave and I finally managed to get a seat. I realised that a lady, seated opposite to me was doing her best not to cry. I really really wanted to hug her - I hate seeing people cry. I thought about asking her if she was ok but I could clearly see she was not. I felt invasive, I was too far to do it descreatly. Sometimes I cry on the tube. And the last thing I want is for the whole tube to aknoladge that. I did nothing and felt guilty about it. I have this problem of feeling guilty for things I just wasn’t even suppose to do. The train stopped as we reach another station, another lady gets in and sits next to that fragile woman. I pray for her to say something , to do what I wanted to do. And she does. She offers her a candy. She takes it happily but still struggles to give that smiley thank you. She was not satisfied, in the best way possible. She reaches her bag to take a tissue and offers it to her - the smile is now genuine, I bet she was thinking the same thing as me. There are still good people in this world. In an attempt to soften the situation she looks at her lap and glances a book, asks her what she’s reading - giving her best to make her leave the place she is mentally. They talk for a little. The train stops again. The Second Lady leaves and the First Lady doesn’t look sad anymore. She takes her powder from her wallet and touch’s up her make up. And I just sit there thinking. Fuck how I love London, fuck how I love people.