No trains stopped there anymore. The old trains sat on their respective tracks in the yard next door to the train station, slowly becoming riddled with rust. Among them huddled an unkempt, haggard looking man. With sharp eyes and quick hands the man milled about tinkering with the trains, cleaning them and replacing many of their worn rusted parts. As if driven by some unknown force, he worked through the afternoon and well into the evening.

He worked so long in fact that it had become to dark for him to continue without some alternate source of light. With a groan he sat down a large steel pipe lying next to his feet. In his back pocket were a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and he drew them out, smacking the pack against the palm of his hand. The flame of his lighter danced in the wind, going out several times before he was able light his cigarette.

A small glow emulated from the end of his cigarette and glancing around the dimly lit train yard, he was reminded of the times he had sat in the spent there with his Grandfather. They had been some of the best years of his life, running free, creating mischief wherever he went. When his Grandfather had passed away, the man had promised to take care of them. Years passed, and as technology advanced, fewer people remembered the trains. Suddenly they were replaced with airplanes, Cruise ships, and other modern day conveniences.

It had never been his dream, he thought recalling all the stories his Grandfather used to tell him about the freight trains that passed through the station. Never had he thought that he would be sitting in the very same train yard decades later. A lawyer, a car salesman maybe; but never had he seen himself doing this. It was never his goal in life, but he was happier now than he could ever have dreamt to be.