The Last Train Home

Platform 3 had no clock. Or maybe it did… but no one ever saw it move. Aarav clutched his small backpack tightly as he stood under the flickering lamp. The sign above him read Platform 3, though he didn’t remember walking this far into the station. “Papa?” he called softly. No answer. Only the low hum of a train that shouldn’t have been there. The train stood silent, its doors open like an invitation… or a warning. Inside, pale gray light spilled out, too cold, too still. The passengers sat in pe...

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