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Description
Description
The train was dimly lit, and his mind wandered. The young woman sitting opposite him captured his attention as she shifted slightly with a rustling of cheap polyester. Her clothes were bright and tacky, seemingly ready to burst at the seams. Her nipples and the curves of her breasts were clearly visible through the flimsy fabric. She exuded overt sexuality unashamedly, a disturbing contradiction to her child-like features. Her heavy makeup, sloppily applied, failed to hide the fact that she had been crying. She seemed to sense that he was staring at her, and glanced upwards. For a moment, their eyes met - his brown and condescending, hers blue and filled with some indefinable emotion... anger? The train ground to a halt and the instantaneous contact was lost. She disembarked, leaving behind a smell of discount perfume and cigarettes and decay.

Tense
I pause for a moment, reflecting on the sheer beauty of the shadow play created by the filtering of the sun through the trees. Then a bus backfires behind me and I am forcibly ejected from my daydream. I board the tram which will take me to school, handing over my money to the surly driver who never says, "Good morning." His hands are sweaty and sticky, and I wipe my own hands fastidiously on my school uniform as I take the only empty seat. I am next to a young business man speaking on the phone, who seems disgusted at my inappropriate intrusion into his personal space. He presses his Bluetooth headset deeper into his ear and raises his voice slightly. I sigh and sit back in the uncomfortable chair, trying to drift back into my earlier fancies. The tram is too loud and too discomforting, both bright and drab at the same time. I resign myself to a long journey.

Description
Description
The train was dimly lit, and his mind wandered. The young woman sitting opposite him captured his attention as she shifted slightly with a rustling of cheap polyester. Her clothes were bright and tacky, seemingly ready to burst at the seams. Her nipples and the curves of her breasts were clearly visible through the flimsy fabric. She exuded overt sexuality unashamedly, a disturbing contradiction to her child-like features. Her heavy makeup, sloppily applied, failed to hide the fact that she had been crying. She seemed to sense that he was staring at her, and glanced upwards. For a moment, their eyes met - his brown and condescending, hers blue and filled with some indefinable emotion... anger? The train ground to a halt and the instantaneous contact was lost. She disembarked, leaving behind a smell of discount perfume and cigarettes and decay.

Tense
I pause for a moment, reflecting on the sheer beauty of the shadow play created by the filtering of the sun through the trees. Then a bus backfires behind me and I am forcibly ejected from my daydream. I board the tram which will take me to school, handing over my money to the surly driver who never says, "Good morning." His hands are sweaty and sticky, and I wipe my own hands fastidiously on my school uniform as I take the only empty seat. I am next to a young business man speaking on the phone, who seems disgusted at my inappropriate intrusion into his personal space. He presses his Bluetooth headset deeper into his ear and raises his voice slightly. I sigh and sit back in the uncomfortable chair, trying to drift back into my earlier fancies. The tram is too loud and too discomforting, both bright and drab at the same time. I resign myself to a long journey.