I'm on a Metro train in Madrid right now - (well I was when I wrote this) - I smell like sweat. I think a few other people have noticed.
I used to feel self-conscious about the smells my human body could produce. I don't anymore.
'Enjoy it!' I scream to the carriage.
The train has cleared out now, just a few more stops. Not because of my smell, I'm pretty sure it's because that is just the natural order of things on this day, at this time of day, on this Metro train.
In other thoughts, I have mixed thoughts on the Spanish...
Here are my mixed thoughts on the Spanish:
An attractive subset of the species, a decent ratio of hot to not.
Bad at organisation.
The girl sitting across from me, one of the only remaining passengers is writing too. Maybe we're soulmates. We're not.
I'll be off in a minute and I'll only remember her because she became a character at the end of this story.