The Bench by Union Station

Life never just passes by

The Bench by Union Station

He came every Thursday at 4:10 p.m.

Wore the same gray windbreaker, even in spring when the weather warmed. Sat on the second bench to the left of the big statue out front, Union Station’s only real landmark if you asked the locals. His name was Frank, and nobody ever asked. He’d nod to the occasional passerby, but he wasn’t there for company.

He came for the sound of trains.

People didn’t understand it anymore. To them, trains were either forgotten relics or something they glanced at while waiting on Ubers. But for Frank, the sound meant something. It meant movement. Decisions. Moments that could go one way or the other.

Frank had made his decision on that very platform twenty-eight years ago. Chose to stay when he should’ve gone. Told her he needed time to think. She left anyway. Boarded the 4:42 out of town with a green suitcase and eyes full of tears that weren’t all hers. He never chased her.

That moment folded itself into the corners of his life. He went on; job, marriage, kids. But none of it ever quite landed right. Not that he didn’t love his family. He did. But a part of him always sat on that bench, still deciding.

Then one Thursday, Frank didn’t come alone.

A girl sat next to him. Maybe sixteen. Couldn’t sit still. Bit her nails. Tapped her foot like a metronome set to worry. Finally, she said, “You know when you’ve already made the wrong choice, but you’re scared of making it worse?”

Frank didn’t turn. Just listened to the tracks humming as the 4:40 rolled in.

He answered, “Yeah. I do.”

They didn’t speak for a long time after that. Just sat. She didn’t get on the train. Neither did he.

At 4:52, she stood. Wiped her eyes. “Thanks,” she said.

“For what?”

“For not pretending like it’s easy.”

Frank just nodded. The girl walked off in the direction of the city. He watched her go.

The next Thursday, he showed up again. Still wore the windbreaker. Still waited for the train.

But this time, he brought two coffees.

Just in case.