"Oh, shit. Here comes the train," I said out loud as I watched the train roll out of the fog and into the 65th Street light rail station.
I had left for work a half-hour later than normal and the chance to shave 15 minutes off my commute had me crowding the bus exit. Another passenger stood between me and the door. He looked over his shoulder. I must have appeared like a crazed bus rider because once the door finally opened the guy stepped down and quickly moved out of my way.
Off I dashed. As I ran across Q Street and into the station I wondered how long it had been since the stars had aligned and my bus was early at the same time that the train was late. It happened so often last year when I first started riding the bus to the train that I got spoiled. Now, I seldom take this later bus.
I made it to the train with time to spare, a little good fortune to start the day.
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