Oriol slammed the door behind him, trudged down the flight of stairs, and dragged his feet down the street. When he got to the train station, he sat on a bench and stared up at the board announcing arriving and departing trains. He lingered in absolute stillness, only his eyes darting about, catching glimpse of people walking by. He wondered where they were going. He wished them a safe trip, a safe return. Oriol couldn’t really ever make himself look at train tracks again, not after the accident. But, he could never, shake off the jolt he got from the bustle of train stations. It was a childhood wonder he carried with him, and didn’t want to fade away.