• Carolin Kassella

Arrival time

Upon the time of arrival, the train station is already almost empty. The wind breezes through, above the tracks, gently carrying the air of the season. It's a season of change. There’s a young woman waiting for the next train to come, or the one thereafter. I can’t really tell. She’s impatiently tapping with her foot, maybe her form of dancing to the music in her ears streaming from the Airpods that are visible because she’s wearing her black hair in a ponytail. Dancing to the rhythm with restraint as she’s clearly still aware of her surroundings.

The few passengers that arrived along with me are streaming in different directions towards someplace they might call home. I want to stop for a minute and take it in, this feeling of homecoming, but I know better than to make a fool out of myself. As I make my way to leave, I notice two teenage boys playing soccer in the area in front of the station, and I wonder why they chose this one of all places.