It was exactly fifteen minutes past three at the station... though the large, ancient clocks hanging from the ceiling did not display fifteen minutes past three at all, closer to ten past three really. Which in any other Train Station would have been immediately corrected to ensure everything ran on time to the nearest second, though, this wasn't any other Train Station. It was an old station... decrepit and crumbling... and although the world around it seemed to update and advance every second of the day, keeping constant and staying part of the present, the station remained in the past. A small jewel in the world, somewhere that time had abandoned, not forgotten, for time does not forget things, to say so, would be incorrect, time does not forget, time never forgets a single second. Time simply decided, in all of its wisdom... to leave this station behind. Though the people who pass through its gates never stay long enough to realise that in this station and this station alone is so beautiful in it's age, one girl remains as constant as the trains.
The Station Girl.
The Station Girl.
