You sprint through the station, heart pounding, feet barely touching the ground. The train is already whistling, its doors threatening to close. With a final push, you leap inside, breathless. The carriage is packed, bodies pressed together, the air thick with the scent of rain and worn fabric. No seats. You sigh, gripping a metal pole.

Then, your gaze catches his.

He stands a few feet away, just as lost in thought. His eyes widen—just slightly—but it’s enough. A strange pull tugs at your chest, something deep, something old. You don’t know him. And yet… you do.

The train lurches forward, but you barely feel it. The noise, the crowd—it all fades. Because he’s still looking at you, the same quiet shock in his expression.

Like meeting a friend you’ve long forgotten. Like finding something you didn’t know was missing.