DESCRIBE A BUSY TRAIN STATION

It was just another day at the train station. The

scorching sun made me swelter and it is already bad
enough that I wore a suit. The train station was
unsurprisingly busy. It is a hive of activity. It is strange
though. I come here almost every single day, and I hardly
ever see the same person twice.

People dressed in various kinds of clothes were

rushing and bustling all over the place. Some of them
pulled brightly coloured luggage bags behind them while
some of them just brought themselves. Every time
someone sauntered by, I was sure to get a whiff of their
aromatic fragrances.

Clasping my almost black briefcase, I sat on a wooden

bench that had seen better days. Closing my eyes and
massaging my thumping temple, I could hear a hubbub of
people at the ticketing counter trying to purchase last
minute tickets. Train attendants – all clad in similar outfits
– strolled by, along with their belongings.

A train came to a screeching halt at the second

platform. Scattered crowds of eager people stood amongst
the eight doors leading into the train, waiting to go in. The
doors opened. People stormed in and out. As soon as the
platform was clear, a piercing whistle shrilled through the
air and the train chugged away.

A noisy clatter broke through the hectic station. Not

far off, a couple of bags fell on top one another. After a few
smiles and profuse apologies, the owners parted ways.

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