“One of my favorite words, beloved.”
I sat two rows behind them, eavesdropping on the train from London to Gatwick. Her short hair is teal and brown and she wore red glasses. Her red and white striped Sponge Bob Squarepants socks stuck out in the aisle when she took off her boots.
She sat across from her daughter and next to her white-haired father and they worked through the newspaper crossword puzzle together in their British accents.
“Using Google for this is immoral.”
“Dad, your morals are too high.”
“You know me better than that.”
“Get it right, love.”
“Nine down is a saying. Something e, something e, something something e.”
“Obelisk. That is not a saying.”
“What is this?”
“That is my writing, daddy.”
“Nine letters for decline.”
“I am going to ring the doctor. It has been like this for three days.”
“I can’t hear you dad, you are mumbling. Blazer is another term for jacket.”
“I said the great bear at first,” she said as she handed him a Capri Sun.
“Open it with your teeth dad. Now you are pouring it on me.”
“You are going to find that the signal is a problem, darling. Call the doctor when you get there.”
I met them when we walked off the train.
“We are a bit of a comedy show but we have fun together.”8