The train was late—again. Maya glanced at her watch (7:45 a.m.) and sighed. “Why is it,” she muttered, “that the one day I’m early, the train decides to be late?” Around her, the platform buzzed with the usual Monday chaos: people juggling coffee cups, students with half-zipped bags, and an old man reading the newspaper as if he had all the time in the world. A child tugged at his mother’s sleeve, asking, “Mom, when will it come?” The mother smiled, pointed down the track, and said softly, “Any minute now…” Maya overheard the exchange and couldn’t help but smile herself. Patience, she thought, is a skill I clearly need to practice. The loudspeaker crackled: “Attention, passengers—train number 403 to Central City is delayed by approximately ten minutes.” Groans filled the air. One man threw his hands up dramatically, as though the announcement had ruined his entire life. Another simply shrugged and continued scrolling on his phone. Isn’t it interesting, Maya wondered, how the same piece of news can make one person furious, another indifferent, and someone else quietly amused? Finally, the train appeared in the distance, its headlights cutting through the early morning haze. People shuffled closer to the edge—too close for comfort!—and Maya instinctively stepped back. Safety first, always. As the train screeched to a stop, doors slid open with a metallic hiss, and the wave of passengers surged forward. Inside, the atmosphere was different: calmer, quieter, almost like a library on wheels. Maya found a window seat, pulled out her notebook, and began to write. Not about work, not about deadlines, but about what she saw around her: the teenager tapping his foot impatiently, the woman in a red scarf humming a tune under her breath, the businessman rehearsing his presentation in a whisper. Writing, for her, was not just a hobby—it was a way of noticing. The world, she believed, spoke in little fragments: a glance, a sound, a sigh, a laugh. When strung together, those fragments became stories. And stories, she knew, had the power to change everything—moods, minds, even lives. The train rattled on, station after station, until finally the conductor’s voice echoed: “Next stop—Central City.” Maya closed her notebook, took a deep breath, and smiled. What had started as an annoying delay had turned into a reminder: patience creates space, and space allows us to see beauty in the ordinary.