He sat at the empty train station with his fingers threaded through the little holes in the plastic bench and waited for the last train. He waited with the idea to get on the train and never come back. Unless of course, someone were to come and stop him. Someone were to come and tell him he was their world. He watched as the train pulled in and his fingers tightened almost unnoticeably. No one came to the train station to find him and the final train pulled away empty. He sat at the empty train station with his fingers threaded through his hair and waited for himself to stop crying.