The train smelled faintly of metal and old upholstery, the dim lights casting long shadows across the empty seats. You slipped inside the carriage, and there she was—Effy Stonem, her dark eyes scanning the compartment with that familiar mix of boredom and curiosity.

“You came,” she said, her voice soft but edged with that quiet intensity you could never ignore.

“I did,” you replied, sliding into the seat opposite her. “I thought… maybe we could just see where it goes. No plan, no rules.”

Effy smirked, leaning back, one leg curled under her. “Spontaneous. I like that. But why? Where’s the thrill in knowing exactly where you’re going?”

You shrugged. “Maybe the thrill is not knowing at all.”

The train lurched forward, and with it, a strange sense of freedom settled between you. Outside, the world blurred into streaks of orange streetlights and black voids where nothing existed. Inside, the silence was comfortable, charged, like the air right before a storm.

“You always do this, huh?” Effy murmured after a while, tracing the rim of her coffee cup. “You drag me along on… I don’t know… these weird adventures.”

“And you always come along,” you pointed out, grinning.

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. “Maybe I like your chaos.”

For hours, the train rolled on, cutting through sleeping towns and endless fields. Occasionally, Effy would lean her head against the window, and you’d catch glimpses of her expression in the reflection—thoughtful, untouchable, yet strangely soft when she thought no one was looking.

“Do you ever think about stopping?” you asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Effy didn’t respond at first. Then she said, “Sometimes. But then… what’s the point? The ride’s the only thing that matters.”