Going west to Wimbledon one morning, busy(ish) train, standing room only. A couple of stops before the tennis capital of the world a woman gets on, mid-20s I would say. Pretty. Blonde hair down to her shoulders.
She's stood in the aisle between the seats and has her left arm in a hefty blue sling. The hand is heavily bandaged and the rest of the arm looks similarly cast.
A man offers her his seat but she pleasantly declines. She's happy standing.
Curious really, considering her only good hand is divided equally among two precarious tasks - half of her fingers holding a coffee, the other half holding a pole for balance.
At the next stop a young guy gets on, early 20s, and innocuously brushes past her. He only touches her slightly, but despite Tube regulations against communication with others he still offers a sincere glance of apology.
Sadly for the woman it is her poorly arm that took the knock and now she is in silent agony. Her eyes well up and she is clearly in a lot of pain, wincing, eyes now tight shut, holding her breath.
I get the impression that she thinks her return to work is a tad premature. The arm is ready for the office, assuming there's an intern to do all her copying (ctrl+c) and pasting (ctrl+v), but it's certainly not up to rigorous Tube travel.
She looks at the guy, out of desperation more than anything else, but can't really say anything because she knows he barely touched her. Thus she stands alone in a tiny isolated cage of torture.
I feel like I am the only one who's noticed but I'm too far away to do anything, and what on earth would I do anyway? Maybe the shock of striking up conversation on the Tube would distract her just long enough to ride it out.
A few seconds later she's breathing deeply but it's apparent that the pain has not subsided whatsoever. God knows what she did to it in the first place. She's in agony. How did she even sleep through the night?
Eventually it relents but I telepathically will her not to alight at Wimbledon with the rest of the throng. There's a busy platform to contend with too and I can't bear to watch her suffer any more.
It turns out I cannot read women's minds, nor they I. She gets off the train among a group of fellow travellers, thankfully without incident.