Subtitle The Train -

Elias looked at his watch. It was 6:42 PM. He was heading home to a house that was too quiet, to a life that had become a series of scheduled breaths. "I suppose I'm one of them," he admitted.

Elias picked it up. He realized then that the train wasn't taking him home. It was a holding pattern for the souls who had forgotten how to walk on their own feet. He stood up, walked to the emergency lever, and pulled. subtitle The Train

When the silver doors hissed open, he stepped into Carriage 4. It smelled of wet wool and cold metal. He took a seat by the window, the glass acting as a mirror for a face he didn't quite recognize—thinner, older, etched with the exhaustion of a man who had spent years running in place. Elias looked at his watch

The use of his name made the air in the carriage turn cold. He hadn't introduced himself. He hadn't spoken to anyone in weeks. "I'm going to the end of the line," he whispered. "I suppose I'm one of them," he admitted