74He looked at his watch again. It was two minutes past the last time he looked at it.

Her train was on time, due in 12 minutes.

He looked around at all the others in the train station, going about their business, acting like it was any other day. Sure, he had seen one tearful farewell and two joyous reunions in the two hours he had been waiting — he liked to be early — but by and large, people just came and went.

Maybe it was different in airports, where planes could be traveling to all points of the globe. A train station was a short-term hop. A couple of hours away at most, within easy car range, if you had a car. Hell, if you were motivated, you could get on a bicycle and get to most points on the rail line.

He knew it wasn’t distance but intention that separated her from him.

He looked at his watch again. 10 minutes.

So, it would be 10 minutes and three months since the last time he had seen her. “Too serious,” she told him. “Too fast.” He didn’t know what she meant by that. Either it was right or it wasn’t. Degree was meaningless if it was right, he thought. She disagreed, and took a job two hours away — by train, at least — with the promise of seeing him again in three months’ time. She’d know by then, she said.

He hated her a little for that.

Eight minutes.