there is no help for it

The time in the top right hand corner of the screen says that it is five forty one.
Again, like yesterday,
The fare is paid, the strange angry little Turk has left Dolores in the bus shelter some time ago, to later pass by moving fast in a small white car. He is an unpleasant little man, angry and noisy.

The bus ride through town is fast and uneventful, the railway station plaza has the smoker in it's centre at the ashtray. He is wearing a red shirt today, and is reading some magazint. He looks up with a start, and returns the morning greeting.

The cafe is crowded today, the two serving girls, the one with the mole on her chin and the Andrea one with the dark rimmed glasses.
The Andrea one serves the coffee today.
Stop at the little counter to collect a lid, and go directly to the platform today, there is no pen to write into the little black book with. The platform is empty of people, watch the trains move back and forth on the sidings,  empty fresh trains moving out to collect there passengers.


And the neighbouring platform has now been dug up in it´s entirety, they will rebuild it so that it will become the most comfortable and luxurious  platform in the entire station.


But there is no help for it, the train is late