If you have ever taken the New Haven line from Grand Central Terminal, you’ll know that there’s a certain point on every train ride, usually after the Stamford stop, when you run out of things to do. From this moment forward, until you reach your final destination, all that’s left is the waiting.

One winter, when I was twenty-four or twenty-five, I was in between apartments and had to commute from Connecticut to New York City for work.