There is a train that arrives without a schedule. It pulls into the station at a certain time, on a certain day — a carriage of faded red fabric and the scent of dust and metal, visible only to those who need the ride. The doors open. The Conductor waits. There are no tickets, only a journey through a city that feels like memory and a landscape that drifts like a dream. The tracks do not end, and the train does not stop — not until you find the resolve to press the button. If you found yourself in a carriage that shouldn’t exist, would you have the strength to stop? And if you stepped off at six in the morning… would you still be the same person who boarded?