Two girls get on the train at Châtelet station, more women than girls and they're not alone many people get on the train, every day but these two caught the eye; not all eyes are caught so easily and most may slip beneath its radar, nightmarish, cold, like a fighter jet, machine-drone-horror: but two young women maybe twenty one approached, waited, boarded the train at Châtelet. They were not initially seen nor were they remarked upon but they were there, background characters in someone else's story; side-plots in another lady's novel or another man's drama; loopholes and random faces; noise and entertainment; they were there, blunt distractions in a mechanic world. The taller of the two leaned down though, with a gentle lift of her long pale fingers gripped the back of the short one's neck ever so slightly, not to hurt, but to alert, to show affection and make her aware that she was there: this gesture was noticed by perhaps one or two nothing to write home about, nothing to shout across the rooftops - but it occurred, as so much does on those cramped trains. The smaller one, with short hair curled up into rings of darkness felt the touch from the taller and perhaps, just for a moment, believed it was another, some stranger on a train who bumped her; but the touch remained and so she came, the smaller, to realise it was the taller woman there with her hand on her neck, comforting and warm in the claustrophobic space: nothing to fear, she realised, and promptly leaned into the chest of the taller girl, with long hair and a short fringe, leaning and resting, the gentle friend at peace. At this point they were noticed, people looking and muttering all afraid to move because they were there, ordinary people dumbstruck by love as it showed itself they knew not what to do, so froze; the two girls, or women, did not notice, the smaller one leaned further in and up to her love's head, just reaching and attaining, with the aid of the taller one bending slightly at the wide round hips, a kiss upon her cherry, deathless lips that had known no truer sorrow than the hate of those train goers and their disgust. The smaller of the pair, the lovers now as it is told wholeheartedly entered into the kiss wrapping her tiny arms about the long torso of her taller, but the recipient, the dominant, the girl with the longer hair, flowing down her back and contrasting with her oddly short fringe which caused a look itself - this girl, or woman, lover and friend, was alert and anxious during the kiss, and kept her steely blue eyes open curiously and devilishly following the others in the carriage with a fear of discovery and a hate for humanity. The kiss was over, the panic recedes and nobody knows but the few who saw that these two girls, or women, love each other and fear the rest; care for themselves and not for those who never cared for them at all; protect their own but only in the face of a judge or jury or passionate man: love unnatural seems good enough for them as they, hand in hand, leave the train.
