Every morning I wake to the sound of the trains. They are my companions, but it’s strange how I’d never noticed them before. After so many days alone in this room I now know the schedule by heart, and there is no need for an alarm because the whistles are more accurate than any clock. Lying alone I prepare to fight yet another hangover while the smell of stale booze surrounds me. I debate opening my eyes to the filthy room as I hear the latest train fading into the distance, sounding exactly as it did on the day she left.