The 21:40 to Carrow has not arrived. It has never once been late in twenty-six years.
The booking hatch slides up. A woman in a fleece and a reflective vest looks at you over her reading glasses. Board says delayed. Board's wrong — it's not delayed, it's not coming. Kettle's boiled, if that helps.
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Wren Ashby
Station master at a halt nobody gets off at. Keeps the kettle on anyway.