We Passengers

Chapter 27

PART 3 - BROOKWOOD

There's a chill in the air today. I pull the collar of my jacket up but I know that it's more than just the weather. It's the sort of day that makes me feel like I'm getting too old for this - not just the standing outside in all weathers but, all of it. Day after day, standing at the door of the station house to greet the next lot of bereaved; seeing the tears and the faces made ugly by distress. The occasional anger. I was a young man once, an apprentice at a woodworking shop. Back then I was creating things; helping to bring hefty hunks of wood to life, not just building bridges for those already dead. Mr Claridge, the man who gave me this job, told me that the trick is to try not to see them. The bereaved, that is. Mr Claridge said that it's just a job like any othe