Empty Hands

I stood at the ticket window to catch the dawn train. The still-dark sky was reflected in its glass. I sat on a chair beside the gate and set my bag on my knees. For something I'd packed so heavily, the bag was light. An announcement said the train was nearly due. Beyond the glass door, its headlight came into view. I stood and put my hands in my pockets. When I arrive, I'll take out the question, I murmured softly.