Early morning, South London.
A thin layer of fog roamed the platform as the cold wind, like the slender fingers of a musician, plucked at the strings of mist, filling the air with the scent of coal smoke, quiet and utterly still.
Click-clack...
Click-clack...
Time passed, and eventually, dim lights emerged from deep within the fog, accompanied by the sound of shoes crunching on coal slag. A night watchman, clad in a woolen coat, entered the platform, breathing warm air into his palms as he pushed open the door of the duty room and returned to the warmth of the room.
"He won't patrol again for the next hour."
A man's voice echoed above the spacious dome of the platform, "It's 4:30 AM now. In one hour, the train from Brookewood Town will arrive at Waterloo Station."
"Dad, why did we come so early?" A little girl sleepily murmured from the darkness, "Wouldn't it have been better to come at 5 AM? You woke me up at 3... "
