Click. Beeeeeeeeep. Someone pushes the door open and we pour out of the train, onto the platform and start towards the exit, a narrow gap between a ticket validator and the wall.
Stop! A lady is entering the platform to get on the train. She passes and the throng continues on, somehow orderly squeezing ourselves through the bottleneck and out of the station.
Some go straight ahead to the street – the shops, the zebra crossing, the bus stop. Some go left, cutting across the grass behind the shops to the main road. Some go right, to the carpark. And the rest of us double-back over the old wooden footbridge, the train still waiting beneath for the people to clear. As I climb the stairs I look up at the sky, the stars obscured by cloud. If the moon is out, it’s not making itself obvious.
As many feet thump up and over the bridge, the train glides away, its passengers also heading home.
