You put your hand into your coat pocket, and then slowly slide it out. You give your head a quick turn towards the bar just to your left. You look almost surprised to see it there. Had it been there all this while? You place both hands on your lap together in tight fists, and then in a well-timed choreographed dance, they open like two fans, move apart and flutter, down to your sides where they rest an instant before folding; your palms press against the bench’s edge, your fingers curl, take hold. A triad of elegantly dressed Japanese ladies cross your path laughing amongst themselves. You smile and swing on the edge of the bench like it was a swing in a playground, legs out straight for the flight into the air… and folded beneath you again for the return. Your shoes are white leather, with a low heel. The top of your foot is bare. They’re dancing shoes. When raised they catch the light and shine. You follow the Japanese ladies with your eyes as they enter the bar through its revolving glass doors, laughing all the while. Again, you slide your hand into your pocket, only this time it waits for you there, till you stand up. The movement is so sudden, caused by some outward force, a desperate shout for help, a call to retreat or attack, the due arrival of your train. Only there is silence: no more trains will come this afternoon and the laughter of the Japanese ladies has taken a seat inside the bar. You stand before me, as straight backed as a hard sounding capital letter, a ballerina – on the tips of your toes. I wait for you to see me. Let me see what you have in your pocket. Is it a coin? Will it be enough to pay for that soul saving cup of coffee, enough to make a call? Have you forgotten to say goodbye? You look away from where I am and you stare hard and long down the tracks, in both directions, to the end, and then to the beginning. Somehow, with nobody going in or out, the doors of the bar begin to swing and out slips the distinct, inviting sound of a spoon being place beside a ceramic cup, which is sent out to you, greets you personally. You rise, walk fast, your dancing shoes beating out sonnets on the stone platform beneath you, and you vanish into the laughter and warmth, while the glass doors still spin.