They stood there, 10 travellers on the platform waiting for the night train. It was cold but not as cold as it had been. We were coming out of winter and into spring so despite the late hour there was the slightest hint of freshness in the air.
The connection wasn’t a good one so we all had to hang around, having mostly got off the express, I guess. The onward journey was only a short one, maybe thirty minutes. It wasn’t as if we had the whole night ahead of us which somewhat reduced the dramatic effect.
Still it was easy to construct a romantic picture out of the scene. Most of the travellers were there individually though it did seem that two girls were together. It half occurred to me to listen in on their conversation but looking at them I doubted it would be that interesting so I kept to myself, a little apart from the others. Other than them nobody spoke although something tells me that someone used their mobile phone for at least part of the time.
The train was only going to one place, the end of the line, for that night at least so some of the images that flashed in my mind didn’t quite fit. Night train to Samarkand. The Istanbul Express. The Berliner.
Eventually we saw lights approaching and swarmed into position around the doors as the train drew up to the platform. There were already people in the brightly lit carriages so when we boarded we just sat at any available space.
Settling down the doors shut behind us and we slid out of the station, homeward bound.