Arriving at the station, I make a run for the door to the lobby pushing against the wind, for the gale is about to blow me over. The strength of the storm reveals my lack of preparation. A windbreaker, khakis, and loafers were not sufficient protection for what has become a raging deluge.
While standing in a pool of water, I quickly check the arrival times since it is already a few minutes past 7:40. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The train is running later than anticipated.
I make myself as comfortable as I can on one of the hard benches of the depot. Looking around, I notice the lobby is empty, but for a young woman in her twenties, at best guess. She, too, is soaked according to her dripping dishwater blond hair. Her head is down, with arms folded to hold any warmth left in her frail body. The rest of her apparel appeared tattered and worn except for a lovely coat with which she tightly wrapped herself.