Jeanette Winterson: The PowerBook

Here are two endings. You choose.

Two minutes to go. I'm holding your hand. The woman reading Hello! magazine is clearly disgusted at the sight of real feeling and gets up to sit elsewhere. The Walkman boy props his feet on her seat. The train is leaving, leaving now, and you won't meet my eyes. I can't come with you. You're not coming with me. The whistle blows. I have to jump up, forcing apart the closing doors. Then I'm outside again, walking down the platform, walking faster and faster, miming at you to pull the emergency cord. Just pull it. The train will stop. You can get off, leave your bag, and come with me. I'm running now. There's still time, still time. Then there's a moment when time is so still it stops and the train moves ahead for ever.

Two minutes to go. I'm holding your hand. The woman reading Hello! magazine smiles at me. She's sorry for me.

You're looking at me and there's still a chance. Dear love, risk everything, there is no other way.

The whistle blows. I stand up, still holding your hand, and suddenly you're on your feet, and we're both out of the closing door as it shuts on your past, shuts on your suitcase, and the woman is miming desperately that you've left your bag.

The train is gathering speed now, taking time with it, and we've found a second where there is no time. The second that beats between your life and mine.

Then the clock is ticking again, but we're together. The train moves ahead without us.