From where you are sat, you can also see the Departures and Arrivals Boards, turning over and over: a thousand passenger stories told in a form that makes 140 characters look superfluous. At last – does it seem like an age? – the train you have been waiting for pulls in. You fold your paper; tip the paper cup and peer through the mouth-hole to check, again, that you drank all your coffee. A human swarm builds up behind the gate; their footsteps raise a droning noise; stretches into single-file, bursts through and fans out again. You look, attentive for one form among the crowd. They are not there. Perhaps they are somewhere in the middle of the press of others also pushing through? But no, the tail-end has passed on now. Perhaps they were held-up, getting off the train: a bag to pull down from the overhead rack; they’ll appear any moment, slightly flustered, apologising profusely for having kept you? The moments pass. They are not there.
Imagine. Savour the prolonging of waiting.