I stuffed my right hand in my jacket pocket— partly for warmth —but also to pull out my crumpled railway guide.

 “Damn it’s late,” I whispered, glaring up at the small clock connected to the large, beige building. It read 12:28 in the morning.

 Seeing the time only increased the painful sting in my temples. 

 Gently pressing the affected areas with my thumb and little finger, I felt some of the pain release.

 “12:37 is the next train…” I peered once again at the clock. “I’ve got time.”

WIP