Crowds, crush, pushing, shoving, no room to move – why? All the trains were delayed. Nearby an old woman white-knuckled and anxious, perhaps a mislaid ticket. Others struggled to and from the information board, appointments to keep, so little information. She looked up. Overhead sun transited through the dirty glass canopy over the concourse; it invited her out. No point in phoning him, only to be berated for not making the connection – surely that taped package wasn’t so important. Clouds darkened the canopy, faces around her melted away, their verbiage also fading, and she shivered. Who had suddenly walked over her grave?