Fortuitous Maybe

Where is it? asks Sweezus.

I don't know, says Terence.

You do know, says Sweezus. You left it behind on the train.

You said I could hold it till we got to Central Station, says Terence.

He has just thought of this. Sweezus DID say it. So it's his fault.

Shit, says Sweezus.

What? says Arthur.

Prototype's been left on the train.

Too bad, says Arthur.

I'll fly back and get it, says Saint Roley.

The train to the airport arrives at Platform 23 in thirty seconds.

No, don't, says Sweezus.

But Saint Roley flies off, determined to be helpful.

He flutters through the concourse, and out onto the platform where the Newcastle train is due to leave in five minutes.

He finds the carriage the Riobamba team sat in.

He alights on the seat where Terence had left the hessian bag with the swan's eye glaring through it.

Saint Roley grabs the hessian bag by the ecofriendly twine.

Wait! says a cleaner.

It's mine! says Saint Roley.

You shouldn't be on the train, say the cleaner, and that is lost property. Leave it with me.

Saint Roley hovers in the air above the cleaner.

Should he obey?

The cleaner is at eye level with the swan's eye.

There is something about it. What's it telling him?

The comma at the heart of the eye starts whirring. Wurrrrrh.

The eye whirring stops.

Go then, says the cleaner. Lost property is a head fuck. I'd have to fill in a form.....

Marvellous. Not having to fill in a form is it's own reward.

And the good cleaner will soon receive another. A two dollar coin on the floor.

Fortuitous? Maybe.

Saint Roley flies back through the concourse, but the airport train has left Platform 23.

He has to wait for the next one.

Not long.

Now Saint Roley is on the train to the airport, clutching the hessian bag

Your luggage? smiles a woman with a large suitcase.

Prognosticating Sea Salt, says Saint Roley. This is the only bag of it in the world.

You don't say, says the woman. What does it do exactly?

That is debatable, says Saint Roley.