But then again, you have done nothing wrong. It was not you that disappointed. You are, you suppose, no longer waiting; though by now you have been here so long you have become part of the furniture, along with the cafe tables, bronze statue, and the man pushing his bucket and mop who cleans the public toilets. This is your railway station, and there really isn’t anywhere else you might as well be, now...Do you ever recall the hopefulness of anticipation? Do you feel guilty to have lost it, by degrees? Do you feel for those arriving at the station, as you once did? Envy? Pity? Contempt? Do you notice them at all?
Imagine. Savour the bitterness of waiting.