The Meeting Place, St Pancras

Your train pulls into London St Pancras in the twilight of the night. Your eyes search through the steam that hisses and clouds the bustling platform. You lean out the window even more, not caring the cold metal rim of the pulled down glass digging into your stomach. The smell of diesel is tanged with the London air and you desperately look for ‘The Meeting Place.’ Months have gone by, with no physical contact all this time. Every waking day, you counted down the hours before you could meet the woman of your dreams again. The parting was bittersweet and tinged with sorrow. You are determined to spend every moment in warm embrace. Just as soon you find ‘The Meeting Place.’ You take a last check of the letter in your hand, scented with her perfume. You take a smile at the excitable writing that becomes almost unintelligible at the end, sealed with an ‘x’. As soon as the 21:01 train arrives, you will run with joy to the station clock. Underneath, waiting for you will be your love, frantically adjusting her hair with her pocket mirror. Soon, the train stops and you swing yourself down onto the platform, shouldering your backpack. Your heart beats faster. Butterflies fly inside you. Your hands shake with anticipation as you walk unsteadily to the stationmaster to give him your ticket. Gesturing you through, your eyes land at the majestic clock ticking away, high above, at the other end of the station. People cross your line your vision as you navigate through them. You walk a little faster, almost breaking into a run. Then you stop. There she is, waiting for you, in her smart jacket and tousled dress. She looks more and more beautiful with every time  you see her. You see her check her watch, a smile tugging the corners of her full mouth. Then you lock eyes, an electrifying moment that seems to last all eternity. You run to her beneath the clock and grab her round the waist, still not breaking eye contact. You never want to leave your eyes off her again as you reach forward and press your forehead against her. You breath in her familiar perfume as she reaches up to hold your cheeks. This is the moment you wanted. This is the moment you were waiting for. This is the moment you and her became lovers at ‘The Meeting Place.’


This is part of my short storytelling writing, which I take inspiration from icons throughout my travels. I see this art installation at the newly designed St Pancras Station in London every time I take a train journey to the Midlands in the UK. This is truly how I envisage the ‘close encounter’ of these ‘Lovers At The Meeting Place’ I would imagine in the old days of steam and electric rail.


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