The train I missed this morning

I stood on the platform at 7:15, watching the tracks go still. The 7:18 to the city never came—no announcement, no delay sign, just silence. I’ve been here twenty years and never seen that happen. Not a single train in thirty minutes. I sat on the bench, read a psalm, then walked back through town. The air smelled like wet concrete and old paper. It wasn’t a crisis. But it felt like a kind of message. Like something was waiting to be noticed.