It is not only because of the smog that Ruby Twist fails to notice the grumbling approach of the bus on this cold, spooky morning, Though the mist is thick and fast-swirling and London squats behind it like a fading dream, Ruby hardly notices. She is not thinking of the weather, or of stepping carefully, or of the danger of the road ahead. She is thinking only of Henry. It is an embarrassing habit - one she is glad to have kept secret - but sometimes, when they are apart, Ruby finds herself rebuilding his face in her mind. She fits one fine feature over the next, word by careful word, until he stares back at her from behind her own eyes. She does it just so that she can look at him, and every time, she discovers somethings different about the fact she knows so well. -Ruby