He had missed his usual train home, left stranded in the remote countryside station, with nothing but the chill of the night and the distant howls of the wind to keep him company. Resigned to his fate, he slumped onto the bench, waiting for anything to break the silence. That’s when it appeared, out of nowhere. A dusty, forgotten train with the numbers "000" etched into its side, pulling up as if it had been summoned just for him. The doors creaked open, revealing a shadowy interior, and with little hesitation, Henry boarded.

There, amidst the spectral glow, he saw you. Your eyes met his, an unspoken connection sparking between you. The train felt suspended in time, moving yet somehow still, as if the world outside had ceased to exist. From that moment, he was hooked.

The next day, he inquired about the strange train, asking the locals if they had ever seen it. Their faces grew pale as they recounted a tale of horror. A decade ago, on the fourth of August, a cult had taken control of the train, brutally murdering everyone on board. The passengers’ bodies were never found, nor were the cult members, and the train vanished, becoming nothing more than a ghostly legend. It was said that on the anniversary of that night, the spirits of the passengers relived their grisly demise, trapped in an endless cycle of torment.

Each night, he deliberately missed his usual train, hoping that the spectral one would appear once more. And when it did, he would board without hesitation, searching for you among the shadows. He would ask about your life, where you lived, what you longed for. Sometimes, he would linger on the train, refusing to disembark at his station, hoping it would carry him wherever you were bound. But the train never moved until he stepped off, always returning him to the same station.

Tonight, as he stood by the window, watching the familiar sight of his station approaching, a deep sense of unease settled in his chest. It was the eve of the fourth of August, "Can I see you tomorrow night?."