A woman boarded at Regent’s Park holding a baguette. She stood between a grey suit and a blue and, as the train juddered forward, the woman sunk her teeth into the bread. Piglet looked at her watch: eight thirty. She shook her head, adjusting her position to watch the woman. It was a bánh mì, she realised, stuffed with sausage, coriander, shredded carrot, pickled cucumber. Mayonnaise and sriracha oozed onto the woman’s fingers. As she watched, a glob of sauce fell from the sandwich to land on one of Grey Suit’s shiny, black shoes. He shuffled, tutting, adjusting his AirPods. The woman raised a
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