Getting On The Train to London

After the gym in the morning, I did not pay attention much about the time, so I spent almost half an hour to enjoy my breakfast. By looking at my watch, I knew that I had to rush to the train station. Some of my clothes were still wet, which took time to dry by ironing. I decided to catch a bus from All Saint Garden to Piccadilly Garden in the city centre. The train was going to depart at 9.15 am. Now, it was 8.55 am while I was travelling in the bus. I felt like kicking the driver away and drove that bus myself, but my morality said "NO". I was the first passenger standing at the bus door while it was about to stop. My heart was pounding, waiting for the bus door to open. The bus stopped, the sound of the air pressure from the bus breaking system warned me to get ready, the door swung open like it was shouting "GO!".

Every second counted, I ran across the tram tracks pass Piccadilly Garden, looked around and predicted the shortest way to get to the train station. My legs did not stop running, neither did the time. The man traffic light on Portland Street was green, I move a bit to the left hand side to avoid the jam of people, turn right and ran along Piccadilly Street. Luckily that all the man street lights were green. Might it have been the micro-controllers that helped me so. I ran up the slope, deciding either to kill the fat guy in front of me or just waited a millisecond to let him passed through the small (relatively compare to his body size). By informing me earlier by my chill out sister, I ran directly to platform 8. The digital clock above the platform changed from 9.14 to 9.15. I ran pass a virgin staff, heard the door closing noise signal. I jumped into the train by the nearest door, while the door was closing. The only two noises I could hear now were my heart beats and the door closing signal. I moved to the carriage E to join my sister there.