A train commute and an umbrella

It rained that morning. Not a soft, raindrop by raindrop, rain. But rather a windy, more sideways than vertical rain.

That was an important fact, worthy of note, because it made Martin step inside the waiting room in the old brick train station. Most days, he got there just minutes before the 7:10 train arrived. Enough time to situate himself on the platform and be one of anywhere from 20 to 30 passengers…

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