It was all about adventure. Trying new things, living life to the full, while she still could. The young, pretty redhead was someone who stood out wherever she went. She was wearing a bright orange skirt and a lime green blouse that clashed horribly and made her stand out even more. She wanted to be noticed, she wanted to share the joy that breathing air, drinking water, looking at the damp grey sky, feeling the drizzle on her face, gave her. She'd done the first four stages ages ago and now she was basically getting everything she could out of this miserably short time she had left. Not that you'd know it to look at her, but brain aneurysms didn't show on the outside. The fact that she could drop dead at any moment and there was nothing anyone could do about it, made her realise exactly how precious each moment was. She resented the fact that the train was never on time, regarding those minutes as stolen from her. She wasn't exactly happy about the fact that she had to spend thirty one minutes on a packed train to get to the warehouse that had offered her a job as a transport supervisor, on condition that she was not covered by their medical insurance.<br/><br/>But most of all, she disliked the way everyone around her was just waiting to die, when they should be grabbing life by the horns.<br/><br/>Her especially. The woman had lived ... what, forty years? Fifty? And she was as dull and grey as her clothing. The woman pushed her way into the cattle truck with seats that the railway laughingly called a standard class commuter carriage at the first stop after the redhead had joined the train, and managed to find a corner right in front of the girl. The young redhead had tried talking to people on the train, and all of them had ignored her, given her monosyllabic grunts and "piss off" looks. So today, as the train lurched away and the woman in grey staggered slightly and her back came into accidental contact with the redhead's front, the girl decided to take a different approach. At the very least she would get to experience something new. And so would the grey woman.<br/><br/>A slim freckled hand, with nails painted candyfloss pink, came in contact, palm first, with the grey pants, just on the swell of the buttock, where the curve of the flesh beneath fit best into her palm. She pressed gently, making sure there could be no doubt that this was a deliberate contact.