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.

A low rumble shook the platform. Lights flickered on down the tracks. A single train rolled in and the doors hissed open, even though the board still showed nothing. No driver. No passengers. The man gripped his ticket and stepped toward the open door.

Inside, the train was warm and full of soft light. A folded note lay on every empty seat. The man picked up the nearest one. It was in his own handwriting: "Don't trust the conductor. Get off at the third stop. Trust me, you've done this before."

He crumpled the note. "I don't take orders from a stranger," he muttered, even if the stranger was himself. The conductor appeared at his side, smiling too wide. "Wise of you to stay," it said. The train sped past the third stop and into a long, dark tunnel that never seemed to end. He had missed his only way off.