Lab was an hour and a half of writing down numbers, and another hour and a half spent making them jump through flaming hoops. We're not engineers, we're accountants.
We longingly watched from behind the huge glass window as students skipped home, as people waved goodbye, and as the sun set. We saw our peers pack up their books and pencilcases with smiles of relief, grab their coats and bags in earnest, and leave the laboratory at a near run. We saw the shadows on the wall creep further and further up the brickwork as darkness descended on the South Kensington campus and we were finally allowed to go home, all because of a couple of bent lines and a few poorly marked 'x's.
Then it was the cold walk home. You could feel the frost in the air as people walked in and out of the pools of murky light cast along the street. The romantically rambling gardens suddenly turned into forbidding shadowy portals. People pulled their coats tighter, their collars higher, as they hurried on at the sound of footsteps. Warmth spilled out briefly from open doorways as they were opened and then quickly shut again against the pervading draft.
When it's cold and dark, everyone's hurrying home, fiercely protective of whatever warmth and love they possess. I wish I had someone to go home to.
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