he got off the train at midnight.
the station was deserted - completely deserted.
the ticket window was closed, and so was the tiny news and candy stand.
and where was the man with the brown briefcase?
the sign above the station was weatherbeaten and hard to read.
he squinted up at it in the darkness.
the first letter was clearly a “w”.
wilsonville! and he was supposed to have gotten off at thomasville, where he was to meet the man with the brown briefcase!
oh no!
he had failed again.
it was the story of his life - he was a stranger on this earth.
it had begun on his first day of school, when his stepfather had dropped him off at the crossroad and told him to walk down the road to his right.
he had walked for miles before a police car pulled over and asked him where he was going.
the policeperson driving, a very nice lady, explained that the school was in the other direction. she turned around and drove him back to the school but of course he was not nearly on time.
he had never forgotten the looks of headshaking contempt her partner, a heavy greyhaired man, had given him the whole ride back.
and now here he was again. hopelessly, hopelessly late.
he had no way he could try to contact the man with the brown briefcase as he had been told in no uncertain terms not to carry a phone with him as it could be used by the other side to track him.
even if he could somehow find a phone, he had not been given a phone number for the man with the brown briefcase.
he started walking down the tracks.
a silvery moon shone down on him.
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