There’s a CCTV camera attached to the wall of the access ramp – it’s at the far end of the platform, next to the red stop light, and it’s pointing right at the bench where the man is sitting. I check the light is on: yes, it’s working, but maybe Tom and Dalmar are still deep in conversation or maybe Dalmar is doing another round and Tom is playing Words with Friends on his phone. He does that sometimes, when Dalmar is patrolling. He knows how conscientious Dalmar is and that lulls him into a false sense of security.

I stare at the man: still that watery, unblinking gaze. Look round, I think, look up. Focus. If you do, you will see the small bird perched on the edge of the toilet block, silent but flapping its wings in anticipation of dawn, even though dawn seems, and is, so far away. If you look up, you might notice, in the far distance beyond the housing estate, that the sky is getting ready for it: the darkness may not be lightening yet, but look, it’s thinning in preparation for the light to filter through. If you notice that, you will see not light but the possibility of light. You will realise that it doesn’t matter how black the night is, dawn will always come.

If only I could speak, even in a whisper. Then I could hiss in this man’s ear, Trust me, this is a terrible thing to do – you will only appreciate just how terrible as you tip forward and reach the point of no return. They will come to you then, the people in your life, their faces, and in that last desperate moment you will know this is a dreadful mistake, the worst thing you could possibly do. Listen, I promise you – the second your feet leave the platform, you’ll change your mind.

I’m directly in front of him – can’t he sense my presence? You’ll have to get past me, I think, willing him to sense the ferocity of my thoughts. Usually I can tell what people are thinking or feeling just by looking at them but I stare at those liquid eyes and the lack of expression in them is frightening: he is not thinking or feeling anything. He is quite resolute. And then, he makes his first movement. He lifts both hands and tugs the top edge of his scarf over his nose, pulling up the collar of his coat a little around the scarf. You still care about being cold? I want to shout at him. For God’s sake, in a minute you won’t feel anything.