the last train home

The last train is never on time, he waits at the station, in the company of a few stray dogs who barely acknowledge his presence. And he waits. The usual suspicions stir inside his head, am I late, was the train canceled? but no, the indicator still shows that its expected...bah! since when have the indicators been 100% correct! He cranes his neck to see as far as he can without toppling over the platform, but cannot see the headlight of that oh so anticipated train. If he misses this train, he'll have to either stay on the platform of this merciless city, or risk spending some hours trying to persuade cabbies to take him to his destination. Faced with awful odds, he decides to walk out into the city. As if on cue, he hears the train rumble into the platform, just as he has stepped out of the station. Rushing back to the platform, without considering the risks of running up wet stairs, and dodging sleeping dogs, and then running down more wet stairs, he reaches the platform just in time to wave goodbye to the guard at the back bogey. No point cursing the rains, or his decision to leave the bike at home. Looks like he'll have to camp out at the office one more night. He wonders to himself, thank God he has spare clothes, a bar of soap, deodorant, toothpaste and his brush in the second drawer of his desk, and then something hits him so hard he stops breathing...why am I so well prepared for a night at the office?