Freaks and Cranks on the Metro

She has green skin.

All we see are hands and face. They're green. Her face is green. A man is talking to her. They're both pensioners. She's a dainty old woman, some kid's great green Grandma. I'm on the metro with her. Crainhem to Montgomery. She's sat across from me, a few seats to the left. Whatever you do, don't look.

We descend at Montgomery. Me, the masses and a lone discoloured citizen. Her green-skinned body slowly but surely transports her to the same tram platform as me, from whence a tram has just left. People glance. A glance is all you can afford. Look any longer and it's like Medusa. Social stone.

It's a sickly green, the kind animators dab on the faces of characters they want to make appear nauseous. Her whole face, her hands.

While we wait a man begins marching up and down the platform. He doesn't look like a freak or crank. He was on the metro in fact, just sitting there like the rest. Now he's out of his cage and he's marching. Not marching exactly, just walking and thrusting his knee up as high as he can. Up and down. Nobody looks. Nobody says anything. He was the man talking to the woman with green skin, discussing whatever such people discuss. The weather, the value of the dollar, cannabis, envy, West Ham goalkeepers.

The green woman gets off at my stop. The green man on the light comes to life and I'm across like a rabbit at dusk. She follows. I know because I glance the people in the cars waiting at the light as I cross and they're not looking at me. They're looking at the old woman with green skin. They can look. Stare if they want. They can ask out loud, did you see that? I can only walk to my flat.

Across the road she turns right as well. I'm in the building now, waiting for the lift to descend, the lift that's smaller than an airport toilet, the lift I'm going to have to share with her because it's coming from the 7th floor and it was made in the 60s and I can see her shuffling her little green feet past the first hedgerow, the second.

Floor two.

Metres now.

Floor one. From the pavement she glances inside. My pale, terrified face catches hers.