One night, past 11 p.m. As you was walking along the station platform to catch the train home after finishing some errands, a man was sitting down ahead of them. He wore a well-tailored suit, his hair was set with wax, and he had refined features. And vomit was dripping from his mouth. The platform floor and the man's slacks were completely soiled, and a sour smell hung in the air. All passersby avoided the man, and no one approached him. No one helped. The man looked at you with tear-filled eyes.