The Cactus

by Sarah Haywood

to myself. I leaned forward. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I live in London, and this happens all the time. Not usually for this long, but I promise there’s nothing to worry about.” “How can you possibly know that for sure?” snapped the doom-monger. “You can’t. You don’t know any more than we do. I just want to get off this train right now.” I often wonder why I bother. “Once again, sorry for the severe delay, which I’ve just been informed is due to the preceding train breaking down outside Tottenham Court Road station. The engineers are in attendance, and we hope to have you moving again shortly.” The announcement seemed to shatter the general mood of forbearance, and everyone started talking at once. “I’ve got a train to catch from Euston in fifteen minutes.” “I’m supposed to be meeting a group of overseas students at the British Museum