and sat down.
I waited.
One hour passed.
Then another.
Every time someone walked toward the platform entrance, I looked up.
Every time I heard a car outside, I wondered whether it was my parents.
But nobody came.
By late afternoon, the station had grown quieter.
The small shops began closing.
Travelers hurried toward their trains.
The temperature continued dropping.
I tucked my hands beneath my arms and tried to stay warm.
Still, I waited.
Because part of me couldn’t accept that my parents would actually abandon me.
Four hours passed.
Then six.
The sky darkened.
The station lights flickered on.
My stomach ached with hunger, but I was afraid to spend my money in case I needed it to get home.
An elderly maintenance worker eventually noticed me.
He stopped beside the bench.
“Hey, son. You’ve been sitting here a long time. Are you waiting for somebody?”
I nodded.
