Rain tapped the metal roof of the bus stop like a ticking clock. 2:14 a.m.. The street was empty, save for two figures sitting in silence.

The man lit a cigarette. The woman stared straight ahead.

Finally, he spoke. “I used to wait here every night after I passed.”

She turned. “Excuse me?”

He smiled faintly, exhaling smoke. “Didn’t know at first. Just felt cold. Forgot where I was going.”

A distant engine rumbled.

She stood, heart pounding. “I should go.”

He looked up at her, eyes pale. “You already have.”



The bus pulled in, doors hissing open.