I turned and I saw him.

His eyes gazed into the horizon where the sun was rising, his hands tucked in his pockets. There was an atmosphere of fatigue around him, his hair was rather unkempt, his facial features sullen and withdrawn. His face even had a sickly colour to it, but no matter how dull he looked, I could still feel my heartbeat accelerate as I continued to stare. His hair sparkled brown as the sun's first rays poured onto it. His tanned arms shone in the light.

When he finally snapped out of his thoughts, he blinked and turned around, looking up at the screen to see how many more minutes were left till the train would arrive. I hurriedly looked away and pretended to be busy adjusting my pristine white uniform. A fiery blush settled upon my face as I felt his eyes settle on me briefly. I was merely another stranger on the street to him. Yet, he was everything I lived for.

Every morning, I would rush to the train station a few minutes before he strolled in. Watching him from the corner of my eyes, I would try not to draw attention to myself. His every move, every action was noted by my eyes as he waited for the train to arrive. When it finally did, I would enter the compartment next to his and silently watch him from my position. I would savour the pleasure of just looking at him until he got off at Ferrington. Every morning, I did this. It was routine.

During weekends, I would pine for Monday to come once more, waiting anxiously and trying to fend off any evil thoughts. What if he did not have school on Monday? What if he quit school? What if he was sick? What if...?

On 28th September 2004, my nightmare finally came true. I stalked into the train station, fervently awaiting his arrival. After ten minutes, when he still had not arrived, I started to panic. I decided to wait five more minutes, before finally boarding the next train to school. My heart thudded as each second ticked by and beads of perspiration appeared on my forehead. I hurriedly wiped them away, trying to take deep breaths to calm myself down.

Why wasn't he here? Where'd he gone? Was he alright? Had he met with an accident? Why? Where? How? When... would he arrive?

I was on the verge of tears when my five minutes were up. Quietly, I stepped into the train, keeping my eyes glued to my hands. I was determined not to let the tears flow, not to let the thoughts flood my head. There had to be a reasonable explanation. He was probably sick or had decided to skip school or something. It had to be.

The next morning, he still did not appear. I was becoming desperate. What had happened? Why had he suddenly just disappeared? I had been planning for ages, gathering up so much courage, to ask him his name for months. And then, he had just vanished.

After reaching home that day, I locked myself in my room and cried my heart out. He was the boy I had had my eyes on for a year and a half. Our first meeting flashed through my head. He had accidentally bumped into me, sending my homework file flying. Then, he had hurriedly apologised and returned it back to me before rushing off into the train. I was left stunned on the platform. I was late for school that day.

Now, he will forever be known only as the boy at the train station, nothing more.