THE ANTAGONISTIC MAN, HIS GIRLFRIEND AND MARIJUANA...

Well. We cannot really call her a girl, although she is very small, petite, short and thin. She is a grown up woman. He  is a wiry and skinny matured guy; spindly almost, as though permanently twisting and wriggling around a spider’s web. The two shuffle inside fast,  since trains hardly wait for over a minute. They seem relieved. Rain is pouring down. Angry rains. Annoyed angels, someone is heard joking among the travelling passengers.

“Ha! Ha! Did you see their bloody faces?” The man’s voice booms in the silent, crowded train, making every passenger sit up and wonder. His female companion clasps her hands firmly on her chest, as they sit. The train starts rambling on battling the rain storm. It is around nine o’clock at night; still light and clear, like north hemisphere’s summers are.

The man keeps blinking his eyelids rapidly: “That was a good smack in the face!” He booms arrogantly; a bassy voice ejected out of his skinny frame. The volume is loud, the manner crass and rude. She cuddles up to him. 

He kisses her sharply and passionately on the neck then booms again:

“You liked it when I smacked him didn’t you, darling?”

She giggles.