waiting at the train station for my man

Three women with umbrellas were waiting for this train. To get on or for someone to get off? I am yet to know. I lost track of them after the people disembarked. Looking for my husband, who would not have an umbrella. My umbrella was at home, I was not expecting this dreary night. My man would not be the first one off, closer to the last. I knew from experience, he avoided the crowds. My smile was wide when I saw his excited look of recognition.