Xeno-Something

"Not from here?"

I can hear his eyes though I look at my shoes. The train station is the most uncomfortable part of England, by far. There's a crowd of petals on a black bough and I am a fly, slithering thrugh sensitive hairs trying not to be eaten. I look up to see if the train has arrived and accidentally catch the gaze of a little girl. She is dressed in a maroon school coat and a grey skirt. She smiles and pulls at her mother to look at the spectacle. I pull my hood further over my face though I am sweating against the cold damp air.

"All it does is rain," I murmur.

"That's England for you," a man chuckles to my right.

I don't respond and look at my shoes. I have the peculiar quirk of turning my feet inward when I am nervous. I straighten them, but a man shuffles by, and they are back again. I hold my hands in my large pocket and play with my change. I am starting to get better at identifying them. The octagonal (hexagonal) one is a fivty pence, the heavy gold one is a pound, the serrated edged one is... I hear the rain whiz up. My heart settles. I can go back to my dorm room and eat the most American thing I can find and try to calm myself down with mysic. Something in Spanish...

Lost in thought, I step forward to hit something hard and soft and warm. I look up into the eyes of a British man. Mild annoyance, intrigue, and a hint of confusion is relayed in an instant, and he smiles at ther terrified creature before him.