The Station and the Drawing

A train station. Empty save for a departure board with my name on it, showing a time that is a quarter to an hour in the past. The ache is there with me. A child’s drawing of a house hangs above the ticket counter. It is the house I used to own, but its floor plan has been altered. An ache is someone else's. I am looking at the picture, the way that the windows are placed, and I am singing "The One That Got Away" by Katy Perry. I do not know what it means. The dream does not need me.