A man woke up on a cold bench in an empty train station. He had no idea who he was. His pockets were empty except for one thing: a train ticket. It read "Departure: Now. Destination: Veliska." He had never heard of Veliska. The big board above him was blank. No people, no trains, no sound. Just him and a ticket to a place he didn't know.

He stood up and looked for someone to ask. At the far end, a small ticket window glowed with yellow light. An old clerk sat behind the glass, watching him. The man hurried over and held up the ticket. "Where is Veliska?" he asked.

The clerk leaned close to the glass. "Veliska isn't a place you find on maps," he said quietly. "It's where people go to remember. Your train leaves in five minutes. But once you board, you can't come back the same." He slid a brass key under the window.

He refused the key. "I don't want to go," he said. The clerk shrugged and the window went dark. The man turned and walked toward the exit, ticket still in hand. The doors opened onto bright morning sunlight and a busy street. He was free, even if he never learned his name.