The rain had been falling since morning. By the time Emma reached the old railway station, the streets were almost empty. She pulled her coat closer and looked at the clock above the entrance. 7:45 PM. She was early. Or perhaps, after all these years, she was simply afraid of being late. In her hand was a small envelope. The paper had turned yellow with age, and her name was written across the front in handwriting she hadn't seen since she was seventeen. Emma. Just one word.