I looked out at the rain streaked world trying to ignore him. His chuntering. How he liked my bangles. How they'd make a nice sound as my arm moved. He breathed through his nose. Not a snort. But a snuffle of excitement. Like a dog catching scent of his ball.
I wasn't his plaything.
My stop got nearer and I realised with a lurch I'd need to ask him to move. To get up. I turned to face him. Look into those small eyes behind dirt fogged glasses. To ask.
"Please. Can I get by?
This is my stop.