scone

To which Frank replied, »Honey, I dream of Beckett singing on the DLR. I always get off at Canary Wharf.«

»You always get off, I'll say that again.« Picadilly Woman leaned on her elbow and stared out the window. Someone said, »Bind the map.«

»Mind the gap,« Frank says helpfully at the next stop, as travelers disembark.

»Do you think,« asked Picadilly Woman to no one in particular, »that Norman Foster might want to have lunch with me?«