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After a day’s recovery from her hospital visit Joyce, my aged companion, was ready to go again. Roger our tour guide had organised a train trip to the next destination, the ancient ruins of Old Morgue and Joyce was keen as mustard to go as ruins were something she related to.
After a quick breakfast, we were ready to go. It was a short walk to the train station from our hotel and Joyce had her backpack on, camera charged and her most comfortable walking shoes. She was in for a big day.
The train station was crowded with the morning commuters as we made our way to our platform.
A train pulled in and as the doors opened a young man alighted and stood for a moment looking straight at us.
I felt Joyce’s arm on mine as the young man looked at her before moving off.
She gasped, grabbed me tighter as her face grew quite pale, muttered Uncle Jeff and hurriedly found a seat. She kept looking in the direction the young man had gone.
The young man in question was identical to her Uncle Jeff who had died years before when he fell under a train.