Jofra walks into the Brussels central station. He looked on desperately as the 21:52 Thalys to Amsterdam turns from “On Time” to “Departed” on the display.
“Huh, that’s weird. They changed the display to be more like an airport. Did not notice that last time. Must be for dramatic effect for situations like this.”
<Insert another synonym of desperately here to sound smart>, he checked his phone to confirm what he already knew. That was the last train for the night to Amsterdam. He had a difficult choice to make. Find a hostel nearby, or spend the night at the Brussels station.
“And those are my only 2 choices… Or are they…?”
They were. He had hoped phrasing it with more flair might trigger a third alternative. It did not. He had to stop living his life as a character in someone else’s blog post!
Jofra slept at Brussels Central station. It was May, so not very uncomfortable other than the mosquitoes and a sore back from the hard bench. He took the 5:44 IC to Amsterdam, went home and got some sleep. What seemed like the start of a great life-changing story was just worth 3 trips to his chiropractor.
Or was it?
It was.
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