I got away with it. No-one said anything, no heavy hand landed on my shoulder, no-one insisted I come with them to answer questions. When I got to the office the first thing I did was head to the ladies and rub one out as quietly as I could. I spent the rest of the day as bored as ever, shuffling paperwork, crammed into a cubicle and feeling like Bob Parr, AKA Mr Incredible, while he was working for Gilbert Huph at Insuricare... (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, watch The Incredibles. Great movie!)<br/><br/>But today was better than most days. It was still the same boring grind of reading emails from young hopefuls and entering them into the computer system, matching them against companies wanting temporary staff and emailing or calling the candidates to ask if they would be interested, then emailing a batch of CVs over to the employer, sending rejection emails out and once in a while sending an offer of employment.<br/><br/>That was my day. But today it seemed brighter, more enjoyable. I sat with a couple of colleagues at lunch, and one of them noticed that I was smiling and humming the hold music for one of the companies I'd phoned just before. "Someone's in a good mood, for a Monday. You get laid over the weekend? Ha ha!"<br/><br/>I shrugged. "Nah, but, I dunno. Maybe?" That was a lie, there was no 'maybe' there at all. I'd never see the woman again. But I had to save face with these women who both had boyfriends and bored me to tears with tales of heterosexuality.<br/><br/>The afternoon wasn't as good. The buzz had worn off and I had the trip home to endure. It's one of the unwritten rules of the universe that the people you see on the morning train you will never ever see on the evening one. Mostly to do with timings and seats and stuff. I left work at 17:05, thus ensuring that my 10 minute tube ride to the station plus intervening walking time meant I would miss the 17:17 departure, giving me plenty of time to get to the platform to board the 17:32 and get my usual seat.<br/><br/>I nodded to the three people who occupied the other three seats around the tiny little table and gazed out of the window as the train filled and left London for the suburbs.<br/><br/>==============================================<br/><br/>Tuesday Morning was dull and overcast, with a threat of rain that never materialised but made everyone keep raincoats, hats and brollies handy. And my mood had dulled with it as I took my usual corner-by-the-doors position. A red dress with a yellow plastic raincoat over it, not one of those dayglow ones, but<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Flive.staticflickr.com%2F5675%2F20790692990_35a3c6f5b1_b.jpg&amp;hash=91beb9e1772ca3570bbf7bf3c503d561" href="https://live.staticflickr.com/5675/20790692990_35a3c6f5b1_b.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">a translucent plastic</a>that always made me want to wear nothing but my undies under it...<br/><br/>The train was less full that yesterday. Mondays I think have the weekend commuters - like the trip home on fridays. The people who stay in Town during the week and head home at weekends. Mr Burley Bowler was there of course. He and I were almost on nodding terms. The train slowed into the last station. Part of me was wondering. Hoping even... But it wasn't gong to happen. Cutie-brown-braid would catch a different train, or just get into a different carriage. There was no way she would want a repeat performance.<br/><br/>Was there...?