There was a leaf perched on top of his head.
He was sitting at one end of the train carriage. Middle aged, slightly podgy, blue business suit and on top of his dark, side-parted hair was a solitary autumnal leaf.
It was easy to imagine how it had got there. Walking to the station gravity had tugged the leaf from a branch and gently floated it down onto his head. So gently that he hadn’t noticed.
Everyone else in the carriage must have noticed. But no one said anything. Not the smartly dressed couple sitting next to him. Not the young woman sitting opposite him. Not the trendily dressed man with the iPod across the aisle. Certainly not me standing halfway down the aisle. How could we?
The leaf was gone by the time we reached London Bridge. I don’t know whether gravity had taken hold of it again, or whether a casual touch of the hair had dislodged it. I do know that I didn’t hear anyone say anything.