Finally, she spluttered, “I’m an idiot,” and the tears began to flow down her cheeks.“What’s the problem, my dear,” I said, oozing concern...She waved her hand in the general direction of the station. “Wrong fucking stop!” she declared.I reached into my bag and pulled out a packet of tissues and handed them to her. She took them gratefully and dabbed at her eyes. She gave me a mumbled thanks.“Where were you headed?” I asked her, placing a sympathetic hand on her arm. She named the small town that. Had been in the front seat, but, ended up outside on the rails, we heard.This was the Tuesday after the Friday when a train had smashed that Beatle. As I peered in, the remaining K’s were seated in the living room eating off metal TV trays. The daughter, the driver had survived. Her arm broken she was seated on the couch. They had a color TV, the lucky dogs.They owed double. $2.50 which was a lot of money 50 years ago. I eased back down off my tiptoes and returned to the night without. More

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