Tanya had to get off. Her systems were shutting down. They had warned her about post-viral seizures. Sounds distorted, lights flashed, that underwater feeling turned her legs to jelly. 

Everyone started to push their way off the train as she slumped to the floor.

Noises and flashes of colour swirled around her head. Her left foot was twitching on the linoleum floor, but she had no control over it. A pulse throbbed in her right ear like the beating drums she’d heard so often in her youth. 

The crowd rushed around her, irritated by the blockage. She flinched, afraid of being stepped on, kicked, overlooked. Unable to call out or shout for help. Only her eyes still moving. And that damn twitching foot. 

“You’d think these young women would learn how to manage their drink,” muttered a passerby to her companion, the tuts clinging to Tanya like the rotten vegetables thrown at criminals of old. “You only live once you know – you should take better care of yourself.” They walked away, shaking their heads in disbelief. 

“Daddy! Why’s that lady lying there all funny?”

“She probably has nowhere to sleep. Let’s go the other way.”

Embarrassment and fury fired through her, then self-pity came crashing down, forcing hot tears from her eyes that she couldn’t wipe away.

The carriage cleared gradually, until an old man shuffled towards her, filthy toenails visible through the holes in his ancient boots. Her sense of smell still worked then – she tried not to gag at his street stink. He eyed her carefully, then picked up her handbag and started rifling through it, poking around with his cracked and bleeding fingers. 

Fuck you, she thought, rob me in this state would you. Bastard. 

Her heart rate raced with rage, then slowed with resignation. What could she do? Absolutely nothing. He slid the bag into a capacious pocket in his voluminous coat and bent down close to her, all stubble and tooth decay. Stay there, he cackled. 

Then he was gone. Soon the train would shunt off to the yard. Its work done for the day. She heard a rat scurrying under the seats. Was acutely aware of the smell of vinegar from a nearby crisp packet and the harshness of the fluorescent lights.

“Over here”

Two men appeared in her field of vision. Paramedics. They took her pulse, checked her responses. Heaved her out of the train and onto the waiting stretcher. 

“Thanks pal,” they shouted to the shadowy figure behind them. The thief? Her heart lurched, then she saw her handbag hooked onto the gurney. “Good job he was around miss, looks like trouble but like they say, you can never judge a book by its cover.” 

Hot shame flooded her cheeks. She cringed with remorse but forced herself to catch his eye, sending him silent gratitude.