The train station in Chicago was busy; busier than any place I had seen before. The people rushing around should have added to my anxiety, but for some reason it was superseded by a false sense of calmness. As I sat waiting at the terminal, I entertained myself by people watching. Most of the people there were clearly Chicagoans, probably bound for business destinations.
One woman in particular stood out. Although she dressed similarly to the other women and seemed to know where she was going, there was an air of distinction about her. She sat neatly at the terminal directly across the tracks from where I sat, looking. She seemed so out of place that every time a train pulled into the stain and obscured her from me I expected that she would disappear, but each time the train loudly pulled away she was still there. She seemed to be doing the same thing as me: watching people and wondering about where they came from and what they were doing.
This woman was cosmopolitan, yet incongruous with her environment. She seemed to have a purpose, yet she did nothing but watch people and look around. I did not understand her, and I wondered if she would have the capacity to understand me if we were to meet.
In any case, at some point she got on a west-bound train and I remained at the station, waiting.
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