A STORY BY NASEER
The platform was almost empty. Just fluorescent lights and the distant echo of footsteps fading away. Henry clutched his backpack tighter, staring at the timetable. The last train home. If he missed it, he’d be stranded in the city until dawn.
When the train finally screeched to a halt, he boarded quickly. Only a handful of passengers were scattered across the dimly lit car. He chose a seat by the window, watching the city lights smear into streaks of color as the train lurched forward.
A few minutes later, she got on. A girl about his age, hair damp from the drizzle outside, clutching a sketchbook to her chest. She sat across from him.
For a while, silence. Just the rhythm of the train, the tapping of rain against the glass.
Then, the sketchbook fell open. A swirl of unfinished drawings, little worlds captured in pencil. Henry leaned forward.
“Those are amazing,” he said quietly.
She hesitated, then smiled. “Thanks. Just… passing the time.”
One sketch caught his eye—a train, not unlike the one they were sitting in, but flying through a night sky full of stars.
“Why a train?”
She looked out the window. “Because trains always go somewhere. And I like to think… maybe they can take you someplace better.”
He didn’t know why, but that stuck with him. Maybe because he was running from something. Maybe because, for the first time in a long while, he felt seen.
When the train reached his stop, he hesitated. She looked up, waiting, as if she already knew he would.
“Maybe I’ll see you on the next train,” she said.
He nodded, stepping off into the night. The rain kissed his face. For once, going home didn’t feel like an ending. It felt like the start of something.
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