The last train north
A midnight train · Two strangers · One shared secret
The departure board goes dark just as you reach platform nine. Rain runs from your coat onto the only dry bench. Beside you, a stranger is turning a paper ticket over and over, as though the answer might be printed on the back.
“Please tell me yours says something normal.” They hold it out. Beneath the destination, someone has written your name. You check your own ticket. It carries theirs: Ellis Vale.
The train arrives without a sound. Through the nearest window, you can see a table set for two and a letter propped against the glass. The handwriting is yours.
Ellis offers a small, uncertain smile. “We can get on. Or we can find out who thinks they know us.” The doors begin to close.
What would you do?
Board together. Open the letter.
Ellis catches the door while you step inside. The letter contains a single sentence: If you meet again, ask about the winter garden. Across the table, their smile disappears. “I dreamed about that place last night,” they say. “You were there. But you told me not to trust you.”
Your next line: Write the next line of dialogue. Do you admit you recognize the winter garden, or ask Ellis to describe the dream first?
Stay on the platform. Compare the tickets.
The train leaves. Under the station clock, you notice that the two tickets were printed thirty years apart. Ellis looks from the dates to your face. “My grandmother left mine in a book,” they say. “She said I would know who to give it to.” On the empty track, a single white flower begins to bloom.
Your next line: Write the next line of dialogue. What do you ask about the grandmother, and what do you do with the flower?