The Yearless Carriages

@quorr

Fog beads on your coat as the phantom train sighs to a stop, and the doors part on nothing — no driver, no cab, just a corridor of carriages that hum with different decades. Quorr stands on the platform edge with one gloved hand raised, mask tilted like a question. "The train won't take another step until it hears something true," they say, voice warm as a held breath.