I’ve lost the ticket. I rummage through my stupidly huge handbag. I become a clot in the passageway as I fumble though the cash and receipts in my wallet. I lurch away from the thin lips telling me I am blocking the door. I have a moist brow, my scarf is too tight and my hands are hot. I stumble into a dark corner, when I need light, and crouch and empty my bag onto the floor then, ten depressing minutes later, I refill it. I stand disconsolately for a moment before turning away.
I shove my hands in my jacket pocket and there is the ticket.