An Old Man

An old man was sitting next to me, wearing a tattered coat. He had a long white beard and a face as wrinkled as a prune. He looked like he might be asleep. I asked him, "Excuse me, sir, do you know what time the next train arrives?" The old man slowly turned his head and looked at me with a blank expression. He didn't say anything. I repeated my question, but he still didn't answer. I began to think he might be deaf. I wrote my question down on a piece of paper and showed it to him. The old man slowly took the piece of paper and looked at it. Then he slowly shook his head. I was about to give up when the old man finally spoke. "The next train arrives at eleven forty-five," he said in a gravelly voice. I was surprised he could speak after all. "Thank you," I said. "Do you know when the last train leaves?" "The last train leaves at eleven fifty-five," the old man said. I was relieved to hear that I hadn't missed the last train. "Thank you for your help," I said. The old man nodded. Then he went back to staring blankly ahead.