London.

We were speeding through the British countryside, on our way to London. Well, London proper. Crystal Palace is a suburb of London, so we were told, but we were heading into the city. What day of the trip it was, I don't know. I remember getting increasingly nervous about Oxford. I was to present there.

Little did we know of the surprises that awaited. My not getting published due to missing days of the conference. The loss of Damian's camera. My usual detainment by customs because I clearly look dangerous. But what we gained, to me, was more than that. We got to spend time alone, with each other. We got to see Stonehenge. He showed me Barcelona. I met his grandparents, who inevitably reminded me of mine. I met his little cousin, who we gave a dragon costume to.

I gazed out the window, thinking about Oxford and how much we could get done that day. We'd made it to London before and miscalculated the distances of everything. Turns out the Thames river isn't as short as we thought. And everything seemed to close early. We'd gotten to The British Museum 10 minutes before closing. We'd eventually never make it to the Victoria & Albert. Fashion would have to wait.

Suddenly, a fox. Ambling about the small hill on the side of the tracks. It pauses and looks at the train. I see it's adorable little face looking and immediately turn to Damian. "A fox! There's a fox!" He rises from his meneito-induced slumber and turns to the window.

It was gone.