Gregor stepped onto the train during rush hour and was lucky enough to find a seat - the man sat on the aisle seat stood up to let him sit by the window. It wasn’t until after the train had left the station and the announcement for the next station was over before the man seated next to him said hello. 

He glanced at the man, gave him a brief smile and said hello back. 

“Mortimer Flowers,” said the man, extending a hand to Gregor. 

Surprised, Gregor lightly shook it as he gave his name, inwardly cursing his forgetfulness at leaving his headphones behind - the modern day sign for “don’t talk to me”. Nearly everyone in the carriage had headphones on and were lost in their phones, silently ignoring everything else. 

“That’s nice,” said Mortimer, smiling broadly. “We haven’t altogether lost our civility. Two people can introduce themselves on a public transport and be polite with one another. The old ways haven’t completely disappeared.” 

Gregor smiled wanly but said nothing. 

“Travelling light?” said Mortimer. 

It was true: unlike the other commuters, Gregor didn’t have a bag. He pulled out a plastic bag from his pocket. 

“Ah,” said Mortimer. “Going shopping?” 

Gregor nodded. “I had the day off today so I’m not coming back from work.” 

“Timed it well,” said Mortimer, indicating the full train carriage of bored and tired commuters. 

Gregor laughed half-heartedly. “I’m, er, I’m collecting something from someone and they didn’t have the day off today so I’m picking it up after they finished work.” 

“Oh, that’s interesting. May I inquire what the item is? I’m sorry, I know I’m being nosy - it’s just a habit I picked up from my past life as a journalist. I interviewed a lot of people back then - old habits.” 

“It’s nothing, it’s just an old toy I used to have as a kid. Not the one I had - that one was broken or thrown out or whatever years ago by my parents - but someone else’s that they’re getting rid of.” 

“Nostalgia,” said Mortimer. 

“That’s it.” 

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“The etymology of the word is ‘home’, ‘return’ and ‘pain’. In a way that’s what we’re all doing, don’t you think? All of these people. Returning home after a day of - well, pain would be melodramatic wouldn’t it? And I think ‘pain’ in the context of this word is more like ‘sickness’ in ‘homesickness’, so it’s more like pain for wanting to return home. Which is also apt to this analogy - who doesn’t pine for home after a long day at work, eh?” 

Gregor was considering his options. Annoyingly, this was a single carriage train so he couldn’t get up and go to another one and if he got off at the next station then he’d miss his appointment. He hadn’t the heart to be rude to this chatty stranger so he grinned and bore it - bore being the operative word when it came to Mortimer Flowers. 

Mortimer nudged Gregor before leaning in. “Look over there,” and indicated across the way. A small, blank-faced woman with headphones on was staunchly ignoring a man who was talking at her urgently. 

Gregor didn’t say anything. Mortimer continued. “Women like her are viewed as easy prey by people like that man. She’s small, slight, and a woman. Even a medium sized man could knock her around if he wanted.” He turned to face Gregory. “Unimaginative men are drawn to women like her not expecting a level of hardness they could never handle. What sort of job do you think she does?” 

Gregor shrugged. “Customer service?” 

“You know, I don’t think you’re far off. What I imagine is that she works in law enforcement. Those awful videos online of people dying horribly - say, a motorcyclist dragged under the wheels of a truck and their head popping like a grape? She might see that footage - she may even deal with the remains - and then have to lie to the person’s relatives about how they died. Downplay the viciousness for the sake of the families.” 

Gregor was looking at Mortimer Flowers more closely now, who turned in his seat, allowing the inside of his jacket to show, and what looked like the holster of a handgun peeked out from within. 

“I’m sorry - you said you were a journalist?” 

Mortimer smiled at him. “I was. But nobody has only had one job have they?” 

They turned back to the woman and the bothersome man. They couldn’t hear but the woman turned to face the man, and said something to him. The man looked down at her lap at the same time as both Mortimer and Gregor did to see a taser there. The man jumped up immediately and was by the doors in a moment. The train pulled into a station and the man left the carriage first and was gone. 

Mortimer chuckled. “The chancers of the world can be scared off quite easily.” 

“Yes,” agreed Gregor, not knowing why he was saying it. The train’s doors closed and began to move out. “It’s been pleasant to speak to you but my stop is next.” 

Mortimer didn’t move, effectively stopping Gregor from exiting. Gregor smiled and murmured again, hoping perhaps that the man hadn’t heard him. “Excuse me, Mr Flowers - I need to get up.” 

“But the more persistent ones - those sometimes require a firmer hand to make the point,” said Mortimer, turning to face Gregor, all trace of mirth or goodwill draining from his face. 

“What?” 

“You’re not going to Alexandra’s house when she leaves,” and Gregor’s eyes darted across to the woman who was gathering her things and standing up. “Yes, you do recognise her. You’re going to remain the gentleman you’ve presented as for the duration of this train journey and stay with me until we reach the final stop.” 

The gun had somehow moved to Mortimer’s hand and the barrel was pointed at Gregor, though it was concealed to everyone else. The train pulled up to its next station and the woman - Alexandra - left along with a few others. Gregor was again thinking of his options but guessed that this mysterious man probably knew his circumstances enough to know he wouldn’t do anything to draw attention to him - them.  

He turned when he saw Mortimer smile and wave to Alexandra who had turned to look back at them on the platform. She had a hardness to her appearance that he didn’t see in her social media photos, thought Gregor. 

“And we will ride the train back to your stop then, and I want you to reconsider this urge for nostalgia you have - how we must cure it once and for all. Because, if we can’t, then I’m afraid I may have the urge to return home - your home - and we can talk some more. Persuasively. It’s still - “ and Mortimer mentioned Gregor’s address. He simply looked back at Mortimer wordlessly. “Good,” said Mortimer and sat back.

Mortimer then reached into his jacket and pulled out and put on some headphones. Gregor began to speak but Mortimer indicated his headphones and put a finger to his lips. The train doors closed and the carriage moved on.