Waldemar and the Bear at the Train Station

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The station was a realm of voices, footsteps, and shouts. Clouds of steam drifted across the pavement as if they were dreams released from the chimneys. Waldemar the raccoon stood among the travelers, his large brown backpack taut with its leather straps, and his red hat sat a little askew from having bumped into suitcase handles several times. In his paw, he held a crumpled sheet of paper with numbers and arrows that confused him more than it helped. "Train seven, platform three... or is it five?" he muttered, adjusting his glasses. Waldemar was a good scout in the woods, could read stories in the moss and tell by the wind when rain was coming. But here, in the realm of timetables, he felt like a piece of paper that could be carried away by the train wind. A gentle nudge tore him from his thoughts. Before him stood a small bear wearing a dark blue duffle coat, a red hat, and an old-fashioned suitcase. In his other paw, he held a glass that shone amber. "I'm very sorry," said the bear politely. "Do you know if this train goes to Paddington?" Waldemar blinked, then laughed, deeply and heartily. "To Paddington? But—isn't that your name?" The bear looked down, a little embarrassed. "Yes, that's what they call me. But I heard that a train station is called that too. So I thought maybe there's a train that goes there. But the longer I look, the more uncertain I become." Waldemar placed his paw on his shoulder in a friendly manner. "Then I suppose we're both in the same situation. My name is Waldemar, and I don't know where I'm going. But I firmly believe that adventures aren't written on timetables." They sat down next to each other on a wooden bench. The commotion around them suddenly seemed muted, as if the two had created a small island of peace. Paddington carefully opened his trunk, unfolded a package, and handed Waldemar a thickly spread jam sandwich. "Please take one," he said seriously. "Travels are easier with something sweet." Waldemar rummaged in his backpack, pulled out a shiny apple, and placed it next to the bread. "And sometimes sweet goes best with fresh. Shall we swap?" So they shared the meal and the moment. Waldemar chewed with relish, while Paddington examined the apple as if it were a small work of art. Then he bit into it, and his face lit up. "Delicious! Almost as good as jam." A shrill whistle cut through the air. The train rolled up, its wheels screeching as if they were looking forward to new stories. Together they boarded, found a compartment, and sat by the window. Inside, it was warm, the wood gleamed darkly, and the upholstery smelled of past journeys.Waldemar put down his backpack, Paddington his suitcase. For a moment they were silent, listening to the rhythmic pounding of the locomotive. "You know," Paddington began, adjusting his hat, "I've traveled a lot.