He is rubbing his hands together and shifting his weight from foot to foot, stamping on the dirty tiles. The man in the big coat and hat stands by the ticket machine. The darkness inside is split with yellow strip lights.

Where are his gnarled feet? Poor Pigeon does get a little bit of my love, but I must keep some in reserve. I look down for too long, looking for the other missing parts of the pigeon.

Strangely, no blood on the concrete but sad feathers, scattered, stuck in litter. Sickly white and shiny, they have been licked clean. Pigeon, poor wings, what wings, detached, feathers clumped and matted, parting to let white bones protrude. I love this morning light but I can’t love the grime, the concrete, the dead pigeon. I try to love London but London doesn’t love me, doesn’t love itself. I try to love this part of the day because I won’t see daylight for the next twelve hours. I open my eyes and start to walk into the growing day, the sky going from white to grey, bleeding pink from the rays of sunlight reaching up to make room in the sky for the sun to sit on a shelf of cloud. I feel tranquil and light like the air.Īnd then a car screeches past, a siren followed by an ambulance, motorbikes, more cars, smoke grease grit and growls erupting in the street. Like in my dream, in a forest with a lake in the clearing, the wind light and warm and blowing and sending me gifts of petals and green leaves, my hair shifting gently, drawing in breaths of blossom and grass. I close my eyes and think about being somewhere else.

The air is mild, smells sweet for a moment. I swing my bag on to my shoulder and step out from under the light. The light is orange and warm to settle the receding night and encourage the unsure day, white and weary, like me. I tie my shoes outside under the street light. Her debut novel, Peach, has been translated into seven languages and was longlisted for the International Dylan Thomas Prize. Glass herself is a nurse at Evelina London Children's Hospital. The following is excerpted from Emma Glass' latest novel, rest and be thankful, about a pediatric nurse on the verge of a breakdown.

Rest and be thankful emma glass