Trip shivered under the layers of his coat and thermals and shoved his gloved hands into fleece-lined pockets. The helpful sign warned him that the stairs might be icy, so he made his way carefully down them. The first winter cold snap had come early.

As he came onto the platform, he glanced to the display screen to check his train time. No delays. He threaded his way through the crowd and searched for a quiet place to wait the seven minutes to his train.

The bright sun caught his eyes and he sharply jerked his head away, squinting. His gaze fell onto a familiar head of hair in the queue of people boarding the service currently at the platform. "Malcolm!" he called as he tried to push his way towards the man. "Malcolm!" He raised a hand to wave, in the hopes his once friend would hear his name and turn to look. "Malcolm!"

Malcolm stepped onto the train and started heading down a carriage.

The crowd broke, and Trip dashed towards the door Malcolm had disappeared into - but with a whistle and the annoying warning beeps sounding, they slid shut. He grit his teeth as he slammed to a halt. "Damnit!"

The platform coordinator lowered the departure signal sign, and Trip watched with clenched fists, pounding heart, and tense muscles as the train pulled out of the station and slowly gathered speed.

It was only after the train had vanished around a bend that Trip's shoulders slumped and he fell out of his stare. He sighed heavily and, defeated, made his way to a bench at the end of the platform.