Yakabatanidzwa ruzha

The last train wasn’t supposed to stop at your station. It hadn’t in years. Still, there it was—metal shrieking softly as it slowed, headlights cutting through the fog like dull, tired eyes. You stood alone on the platform, phone dead, no signal, no explanation. The station clock above you flickered between 11:59 and 12:00, never settling. The doors slid open with a long, mechanical sigh. Inside, the carriage was empty. At least, it looked that way at first. You hesitated, but the fog behi