The 11:47 PM train to the outskirts of the city was rarely used, and that was just how the people who rode it liked it. Most of them were sleepless, lost in thought, or simply avoiding the noise of the city. But on this particular night, something felt different. The carriages were unusually quiet, the usual hum of distant conversations replaced by an eerie stillness. Elena had been waiting for hours at the platform, her breath visible in the cold air. She wasn’t sure why she had chosen this time, but the train had come as if summoned. She stepped inside, finding only one other passenger—a man in a dark overcoat, his face half-shrouded by the brim of his hat. He didn’t look up as she sat down, and the doors closed with a soft hiss. The tunnel lights flickered as the train moved, casting long shadows across the seats. Elena noticed that the windows were slightly fogged, as though the air inside was trapped. The man beside her finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said. Elena frowned. “I think I am.” He nodded slowly, as if confirming something. “You don’t remember, do you?” She shook her head. “Remember what?” He leaned forward, revealing a pale face with hollow eyes. “The last time you took this train. You got off somewhere else. And you never came back.” Elena’s heart skipped a beat. “That’s not true.” “Is it?” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, worn photograph. It showed a woman standing on a platform, similar to the one where Elena had waited. The woman looked exactly like her. “I was there,” the man said. “I watched you get off. And I’ve been waiting ever since.” Elena stared at the photo, her mind racing. “Who are you?” “I’m the conductor,” he said. “But I don’t run the train anymore. I just wait for those who are lost.” The train began to slow, the sound of wheels on tracks changing. The lights in the carriage dimmed, and the temperature dropped. Elena could see her breath forming clouds in the air. The man stood, moving toward the end of the car. “Where are we going?” she asked. “To the place where the train doesn’t go,” he replied. “Where the tracks end and the world begins again.” Elena followed, her footsteps echoing in the empty space. The corridor stretched longer than it should have, the walls lined with old, faded posters of trains that no longer ran. At the end of the car, there was a door. It was locked, but the man touched it with his hand, and it creaked open. Beyond the door was not a tunnel, but a vast, empty space. The ceiling was high and black, and the floor was made of smooth, polished stone. In the distance, a single light glowed. The man gestured for her to walk ahead. “I can’t go further,” he said. “You must find your own way.” Elena hesitated, then stepped forward. As she walked, the air grew heavier, the silence more profound. The light grew brighter, and when she reached it, she found herself standing before a mirror. Her reflection stared back, but it wasn’t her. It was the woman from the photograph. “You’ve come home,” the reflection said. Elena gasped. “Who are you?” “I am what you left behind,” the reflection whispered. “You chose to forget. But the train always brings you back.” Suddenly, the mirror cracked, and the world around her shifted. She was back on the platform, the 11:47 PM train pulling away. The man in the overcoat was gone. The station was empty, except for the faint sound of the train’s whistle echoing in the distance. Elena stood there, unsure if she had dreamed it all. But on the ground, she found a small, worn photograph—her own face staring back at her, the date on the back reading *April 3rd, 2023*. She had no memory of that day, but the train had brought her back. And somewhere, in the depths of the subway, the conductor waited once more, ready to welcome the next lost soul.