She stood on the platform; her breath visible is the frosty morning air. A business man clutched a steaming foam cup and blew in quick continuous bursts to cool it down. She zeroed in on the sound of his breath. Quick, forceful beats. On her other side a school child clapped his mitten covered hands together trying to generate warm. Clap, clap, clap. She synchronized the blowing of the breath with the child’s claps. Breath, breath, clap. Breath, breath, clap. A station worker swept the ground on the opposite platform. Swish, swish, swish. Breath, clap, swish. Breath, clap swish. She felt the rhythm of the city waking up and closed her eyes, letting her ears absorb the station’s song. Breath, clap, swish. Breath, clap swish. She could hear the train approaching, the repetitive clatter of the wheels along the tracks and she found the repetitive rhythm of the clattering train on its tracks. Breath, clap, swish, click-clack. Breath, clap, swish, click-clack. The song that the station played just for her came as suddenly as it began with the whoosh of air from the approaching train.