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 frowned. "That ticket is forty years old," he said, tapping the glass. "We stopped running to Veliska after the accident. Nobody's asked for it since." He pulled a dusty file from a drawer. The man's photo was inside.

"If it stopped running, why do I have a ticket?" he asked. The clerk's face went pale. He looked at the photo, then at the man, then back. "Because the last train never actually arrived," he whispered. "And neither did you." Behind the man, a cold wind began to blow through the locked doors.