She stood in her parker jacket waiting for a train to get back home. The wind was fierce, forcing the bristles on her hood to dance wildly. I stood with my hands clenching in my pockets desperate for warmth, my jacket three sizes too small and the wind managing to find a way to blow up inside. I could barely speak. ‘It was Tom’s fault really.’ Her lips were blue underneath her peach lipstick. They seemed to feature more in the cold than they normally did. ‘He was always showing off, ever since he got a car. Stupid bastard killed himself if you ask me.’ ‘Didn’t he die later?’ I asked. I had already heard half the story. ‘Sure, sure. Hanged himself, couldn’t deal with the ‘guilt’. We both moved our eyes towards the rails. One passenger had thought he heard the train which caused a chain reaction of on-lookers. ‘Because of Cat?’ I said. Cat was the girl in his passenger seat who had flown through his window. ‘Yeah but I don’t think he killed himself because of that. No, he k