It was a rainy tuesday afternoon. At first he only saw her grey backpack, familiarly shaped like a mountaneer's. And then she looked up. She had the face of a llama, chewing last meal's cud, dripping greenish liquid on the seats and floor of the train. He gave her a tiny frown in disgust. He, too, was nibbling at the grassy mixture in his mouth, but at least it was clean.