Waiting impatiently on the platform, I glance at the board again. It’s blank. Broken. There are no conductors on the platform to interrogate about the status of my train. But, I know that it’ll be here any minute. It always comes to this platform so I’m not wrong and it is normally late. So, there’s nothing to worry about, right?
As I rub my hands together to protect them from the cold, I pace up and down the platform to keep my muscles moving and warm. Why has there not yet been an announcement that my train will be here soon? It’s supposed to be here in one minute and there’s nothing to suggest that it’s going to be late.
And where are all the people that are usually on my commute? The platform is empty. Surely I can’t be the only one that is getting on. The platform is usually packed with commuters and bicycles. And staff.
Feeling my phone vibrate, I take it out of my pocket to see if it was a notification about some sort of delay. The possibility which seemed most likely. Although it was from The Train Line, it didn’t say what I had expected: “Your Oxford train departs from Platform 3 in 0 minutes.”
Looking up to the sign of what platform I was on, I read the number 2. Horrified, I peered at the platform across, which must have been platform 3, to see what looked like the usual train I caught. Through the window, I could see those familiar faces that yesterday would have been stood on this platform with me.
Shooting down the stairs, I sprinted to the next platform. But, as I arrived, the train slid away into the distance. I held my head in my hands and sank to the floor on the now vacant platform, letting out a small shriek of devastation.