The little girl.
Chubby cheeks, black hair pointing out in random places from her monkey themed beanie pulled tightly over her ears: pom-pom poked at the top and on the ears, for extra warmth. She sat, with tears that had just left her eyes due to an ordeal that her child brain would soon make fade into obscurity as soon as she took a bite of the marshmallow she held in her tiny hand.
She took a bite of the fluffy-pink, sugary sweet and she methodically chewed on it in only the way children can. She wiped her eyes to rid herself of the meaningless tears. She wiped them in the perfect way that someone so small does; with her full arm that was so tightly tucked into her little orange parka jacket.
She took another bite of the marshmallow, slowly turning gooey in her hand.
In her left hand she held the bag that contained another marshmallow, to ensure her calmness on the coming train ride.
She sat, chewing in her paced way, getting gradually through her squishy treat. Her father, stupidly, offered her segments of a nectarine. She refused this healthy nonsense and continued on her journey through the flavoured fluff of the marshmallows.
Having finished the marshmallows she decided she would try her hand at the nectarines, that had once been found to be in her face.
She ate them happily.
Then she and her father engaged in a conversation I can only assume was about how delicious the marshmallows were and how the nectarine segments were a perfect foil to a sweet treat. She then sat complacently with her fathers phone in her lap for a while. Images flying past her face and into her eyes.
She was so tiny that her entire body fit on the seat. Comfortably and perfectly.