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Her name is unknown, she is on her way to Pakenham

23 November 2007, possibly 9.02am… The old lady steps into the quiet of city-bound tram from the noisy tram stop on busy St Kilda road. She sits heavily down into an aisle seat next to and across from well-suited people more than half her age.

The old lady comfortably rests her grey woollen left arm and hip against the woman seated to her left, completely unaware of the unspoken rules of public transport personal space. She is warm on the cold day and smells slightly of pickles and tea. Her grey hair is pulled back into a tight bun. Wafts of her over-sized grey wool cardigan settle onto the woman’s clean, black coat.

Her small and wrinkled hands tighten into a ball into her wide black-skirted lap – her feet only just reach the floor. First, she looks out through the windows to the right, then the windows to her left before looking ahead through the only visible portion of the tram driver’s window.

‘Is this tram going into the city?’ she asks both the woman to her left and the quiet man with the blue shirt tucked into neat black pants. Her home-tongue accent is only barely there after what could be decades spent in Australia.

‘Yes, the city is just a few stops away,’ the woman reassures. The old lady’s warm eyes – surrounded by long and thinning lashes on both the top and bottom lids – soften with the news.

‘I don’t think any trams coming from this direction turn to go to South Melbourne,’ the gentle man reassures further, looking to the woman for confirmation. The woman and man stare at each other for longer than either of them would have expected, before the man shyly turns his tanned and unremarkable face forward to stare out the window.

Two stops later, the old lady balls her hands again in her lap. ‘Do we stop near Flinders Street Station?’ she asks.

‘Just one more stop,’ the woman replies, smiling down at the old lady’s square face.

‘I stayed with my daughter in Williamstown last night,’ the old lady explains. ‘She dropped me off on St Kilda Road – she has a meeting. I don’t know the city. I don’t use trams very often. I’m going home to Pakenham.’

The man picks up his old-fashioned briefcase and smiles at the old lady. ‘I am going to Flinders Street Station too. We can walk together.’

The older-model tram takes its time to come to a stop outside the train station, idling slowly behind the two trams in front. The man watches quietly as the old lady says goodbye to the woman and then lifts her short and very round body out of the chair.

He steps onto the path first and waits for her to gingerly make her way down the three steps. The woman watches as they walk off towards the station - they are smiling, talking.

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