Man at a tram stop

He had the top two buttons of his dark suit jacket done up and a navy, mohair scarf tucked warmly beneath the lapels. His grey, striped tie and crisp, white shirt were visible in the gaps of the scarf. The straight line of his trousers had only a gentle kink where his knee bent. The shine of his shoes reflected the headlights of the cars as they crawled past the tram stop in the dull, winter morning light.

Ashley stared at him out of the backseat of her dad’s Lexus. He was so smart. Not like her dad. He went to work in jeans and thongs. Even in winter. Mrs Knox always said that the way you presented yourself to others showed how much you respected yourself. The man at the tram stop clearly respected himself a lot. His eyebrow was furrowed as he stared at the ground and Ashley tried to spot what he was staring at.

The car vibrated as her father put it into gear and started to move. Ashley looked at the man for one last moment. He looked up at her and stuck out his tongue. Shocked, Ashley burst into laughter and her father turned up the volume on the radio.


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