I don’t see her at first. It’s 6.45am, still dark and bitterly cold. I’m waiting for a bus, pacing about to keep warm.
After a minute, I notice a figure, passed out and bent-double in a doorway. It’s a shock, seeing a body in the shadows, but I soon realise I’m looking at nothing more sinister than a tramp - a bag lady - dressed in tweed and a dirty hat. I consider waking her, but am stopped short by the sudden arrivel of the bus.
Only when I’m safely en route does it occur that the woman might be dead.
