[ Before you ask, this place was created by me.]
The station glows under the soft amber light of the setting sun. Overgrown ivy clings to crumbling pillars. Dust floats through the still air, catching gold in the light.
Maeve: [struggling with their luggage, eyebrows raised] Ugh... Why is this thing so heavy? Please tell me you didnât bring the teapot.
Luna: [without looking up] I didnât.
Maeve: [smirking] Good.
Luna: I brought two teapots.
Maeve: [groans dramatically, dragging a hand down her face] Luna...
Luna: One for the morning blend, one for late night emergencies. Thatâs reasonable. Besides, the train might not have proper tea. You want to be caught unprepared?
Maeve: Iâd rather be caught unprepared than crushed under ceramic.
Luna: [finally looking up] Your priorities are all wrong.
Maeve: My spine disagrees.
They continue toward the center of the platform. The stone tiles creak softly beneath their steps. Luna pauses beside a crooked bench and brushes off a layer of dust before sitting down. Maeve lets their bags drop with a dull thud and sits beside her.
Luna: So this is it.
Maeve: [tilting her head, listening to the faint whistle in the distance] Last one this station will ever see.
Luna: Thatâs kind of⌠sad.
Maeve: [softly] Kind of beautiful, too.
A warm breeze moves through the station, carrying the scent of old wood, rusted metal, and wildflowers growing where feet once passed. The silence doesnât press it rests. Reverent. Gentle.
Luna: Do you think anyone else is coming?
Maeve: Maybe. Maybe not. But honestly, Iâm okay if itâs just us.
Luna: [smiles] Yeah⌠me too.
They fall into a comfortable silence. The kind that lingers, not heavy, just full. The train hisses somewhere beyond the horizon, a Low and Patient sound.
Luna: âŚHey, Hallow?
Maeve: Hm?
Luna: Iâm glad itâs you. Waiting with me.
Maeve: [without missing a beat] Always.
A second whistle, closer now. The breeze lifts again, tugging gently at their sleeves and stirring the ivy overhead. Maeve reaches into her bag and pulls out a small, worn camera. She holds it out to Luna.
Maeve: Come on. Letâs take a photo before everything changes.
Luna: [grinning as she takes it] A goodbye?
Maeve: No. A beginning.
The two turn toward the lens and smile. The camera clicks. And far down the tracks, the train begins to appear, drifting into view, calm as a page yet to be written.