The station offered shelter, but it did not offer the certainty I needed.
Around me, other passengers faced similar problems. A family tried to keep a sleeping child comfortable across two connected seats. An older man repeatedly approached the departure board, hoping the information would change. A young traveler paced near the ticket counter, speaking urgently into a phone.
Everyone seemed to be waiting for something: a bus, an answer, a message, or a sign that the night would become easier.
I watched water slide down the window in crooked lines. Beyond the glass, the road was blurred by rain, and the occasional headlights looked distant and indistinct.
It was a strange feeling to be surrounded by so many people and yet feel so alone. Nobody was being unkind. Most travelers were simply dealing with their own problems. There was little room for conversation when everyone was worried about reaching a destination.
