Melbourne Train Girl sat on the floor of her bedroom surrounded by the contents of both her wardrobe and her chest of drawers. She had made the kind of clothing mess that would have caused her mother to question aloud "why do I bother ironing?".
She had tried on every conceivable combination of outfit before deciding none of them were right and discarding them all over the carpet. And now she sat in the middle of it all wearing the outfit she always ended up in when she went out. She should have known and put it on in the first place.
Tonight, after class, she was meeting the boy who had told her she was intimidating. Outside the town hall. At 5pm.
Yet Melbourne Train Girl couldn't help remembering how dreamy the Market Boy was. He had been there last night. Sexy and unshaven. And he had been happy to see her. Not to mention his special effort to say goodbye to her before leaving.
She would wear her favourite red shoes today.
Melbourne Train Girl wondered if the Market Boy had thought about her at all after he had left.
Yes, she would wear her favourite red shoes.