I miss the train by 10 seconds, after lying in bed too long and then having to rush madly. After being in such a hurry that I smudged the mascara down my face and failed to find my favorite shoes. After leaving the house without breakfast. After pedaling so hard on the way that the air feels hot and sticky.
I miss the train by 10 seconds because someone decided to close the doors 40 seconds early. After all this. After all that effort. I want to scream, rage at the employee who cheerfully calls "Too late for that train, love" across the platform. I want to make him, or anybody, feel as miserable as I am feeling right now. There is a drunken sixteen year old inside me and she wants OUT. Now.
So I close my eyes and breathe. Feel my feet, tingling from my dash across the station. Feel the warm summer sun on my bare arms and face. Feel the weight of my backpack on my shoulders and the weight of my anger constricting my chest. Breathe. There is always another connection, another chance.
I open my eyes: next train, 9:43, expected 9:48. And I laugh.