She was waiting at the station, wearing her best pink dress. Her hair was coiffed neatly and tucked into a tiny pillbox hat with a lacy black veil. She wore clean white gloves on her hands and a pair of sensible black pumps on her feet. She was ready. She had spent years getting ready for this day.
She checked her watch again and stretched out over the rail, peering down the track that ran to the horizon. She had family waiting for her. There was somewhere else she was needed. She had arrived here to do a job. And through years of love and laughter, tears and sorrow, she had persevered until her work was done. Now she was tired. She was ready to go home.
She sat down primly on her suitcase and waited.
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