I stuffed my right hand in my jacket pocket— partly for warmth —but also to pull out my crumpled railway guide.
“Damn it’s late,” I whispered, glaring up at the small clock connected to the large, beige building. It read 12:28 in the morning.
Seeing the time only increased the painful sting in my temples.
Gently pressing the affected areas with my thumb and little finger, I felt s...