" No, I was waiting for the train. The three forty-seven to Yass. Comes every afternoon and, according to the station master, it’s never late and I knew that. And then you came along and you spoke to me and nobody had looked me in the eye for years. My mum wouldn’t. She told me later that she couldn’t, because she was scared to see that I might hate her. She feels like she didn’t protect me from him. But I remember you that day and you looked at peace with yourself and it made me reconsider everything I had planned to do. Because I thought to myself, you can’t do this to her, not after the Hermit thing.”
“Do what to me? I don’t think that leaving me on that platform would have changed my life, Griggs,” I lie.
“You being on that platform changed mine.”
This isn’t romance. This isn’t a declaration of love or affirmation of friendship. This is something more.
“I wasn’t there that day to get on the three forty-seven to Yass,” he says. “I was there to throw myself in front of it. "

― Melina Marchetta , On the Jellicoe Road