Last Train

Oh shit! It's there already!
Pausing for a second to check my watch was pointless, but I wanted to see if I was late. I wasn't. I sprinted up the steps to the bridge as the whistle blew.
"Wait!" I yelled, but it went unheard beneath the roar of the locomotive.
I ran across the bridge as the train slowly pulled away.
Down the steps on the other side I did my best exasperated face for an audience of none. I checked my watch again. I still wasn't late, but the dead-still second hand was mocking me.
The train gained speed and the guard waved from his window at the back, as if to say: "Hard luck, pal. You should've got here sooner."
I spied a man on the platform, the one who had blown the whistle.
"What time is the next one?" I asked.
"Next one?"
"You know, the one after this?"
"There isn't one."
"What do you mean there isn't one?"
There had to be another train that day.
"Is it in the morning?"
I wondered how much a last-minute hotel room was going to cost me.
The man shook his head. "No, that was the final one."
"What, ever?"
"They're closing the line. Didn't you know?"
I'd missed the last train.