The Wrong Train

Marta's train to the capital left at 9:15 from platform four. She arrived at the station at nine, bought a coffee and sat down to answer some emails.

At 9:14, she looked up, saw a train at platform four and jumped on just before the doors closed. She found a seat, opened her laptop and went on working.

Half an hour later, the conductor checked her ticket and frowned. “I'm sorry, madam, this ticket is for the capital. This train is going to the coast. Your train changed platforms this morning.”

Marta felt her face go red. She had an important meeting at two. The conductor explained that the next stop was a small town, and that a train back would leave from there at five in the afternoon.

She got off in a town with one street, one church and a beach she had never heard of. She called her boss, apologized and turned the meeting into a video call.

With hours to wait, she walked to the beach. It was empty except for an old man repairing a fishing net. He invited her to sit, and soon they were talking like old friends.

At two o'clock, she joined the video call from a little café by the sea. The meeting went well, maybe because she felt calmer than she had in months.

At five, she took the train back. Through the window, she watched the sea disappear behind the hills. She had lost a morning, but she had found a place.

A month later, on a free Saturday, Marta bought a ticket to the little town on the coast. This time, she checked the platform twice.