No, if something had happened, they would have texted to let you know. And if there had been some accident, news would have filtered through to you somehow. Perhaps they have not come, not because they have been prevented, but – of course – because they did not want to. Here you are, waiting for someone who will not come; who is not, in turn, actively waiting to be with you, carried on a train, the miles between you falling away into the past...How foolish, to have thought otherwise. How blind love – familial, friendly, or romantic – is, to whether it is requited or not. How foolish you must look, to those walking by, standing there on your own, with no reason to be here at all. An imposter, among those being met.
Imagine. Savour the insecurity of waiting.