Here it is! Can you spot the lone adjective?
Stranger
The wind breezed through the platform as Irene half-read the newspaper. She glanced at the board that hung above her. Minutes had to expire before the appointment arrived. Thoughts drifted from the wine she had drowned herself in while celebrating her sister’s wedding - an affair that called for an ability to drink as much as you could for as long as you could - to the slice of chocolate she had eaten for breakfast and the relentless tunnel of death that might envelop her son in Afghanistan – a tunnel that generations before him had swallowed wholeheartedly.
Her eyes caught a sliver of train. Irene threw the paper down and plunged into the tide of people that now massed the doors. London for you. She gripped the handlebar and felt the ground slide beneath her as the train whisked its cargo away into the netherworld.
She emerged from the darkness into the warmth of summer. Birds squawked songs of praise for the sun’s generosity; smells of grease and oil wafted from the cafes; a fountain whispered crackles of water. Her heels clicking against the pavement, she turned left and looked for a bar with that sign the concierge had mentioned over the phone. Yes, that’s it, she thought. This encouraged her: like a compass that had discovered north, she set her sights on her destination, which was meant to sit at the end of the road.
And as Irene had predicted, it lay where the street stopped and a crossroads replaced it. Finally, she had found it. At last, her journey could begin in earnest.
