“We’ll always have parrots,” he sighed as he reluctantly let go of her hand and boarded the train.
“We’ll what?” she replied, trying to make herself heard over the noise of the bustling platform. “What about parrots?!”
“No, Paris,” he shouted back at her as the train started to pull off, the sound of grinding metal wheels on metal track and the relentless churning of the steam engine filling both their senses.
“Harris?” she looked confused. “Who’s Harris?”
“Nevermind,” he shook his head, looking at her trying to keep up with the train as it slowly started to move along the platform. “I love you.”
“Who’s Olive?!?” she shouted after him. “Are you seeing someone else? Olive Harris? The girl in accounts? I’ll rip her bloody eyes out!”
“No, I…” he began, but realised the train was pulling away from her too fast now, and that there was no way of making himself heard now.
Ah, the romance of the steam age…