The train howled its warning, a long metallic sigh that echoed across the nearly empty platform.
Evan ran anyway.
Boots thudding against the concrete, backpack swinging behind him, he weaved past a couple dragging suitcases and leapt into the last carriage just as the doors slid shut behind him. He laughed, breathless, heart racing—not from panic, but from thrill. He loved this part. Almost missing things. Almost getting left behind. It made arrival sweeter.
Pulling his headphones down to his neck, he stood near the doorway, catching his breath, eyes still smiling as the city began to blur past the window.
He didn't care much about where he was going. Perpignan, too slow to be loud, too bright to be sad. The streets curled like vines, narrow and sun-washed, with chipped shutters and painted tiles that whispered of old stories. He was just visiting for work.
Outside the window, the morning light melted into clouds. Inside, the carriage was mostly quiet.
She sat by the window.
Still. Silent. Wrapped in an oversized gray sweater, knees curled up on the seat, hands tucked beneath the fabric like she was holding herself together. Dark hair fell messily over her shoulder, and a crescent moon pendant glinted faintly on her chest.
She hadn't looked up when he got on. Hadn't moved when the train jerked forward. She just kept staring out, like the world was behind her and not in front.
Evan watched her reflection in the glass for a second too long, then looked away and pulled his headphones back on.
He didn't notice that Selene blinked for the first time in minutes, her gaze shifting—just slightly,
Evan slid into the seat across the aisle from her—close, but not too close. He slung his leather backpack down, unzipped it with familiar ease, and pulled out a battered tablet. The screen flickered to life, revealing a scattered collection of notes, blog drafts, and a half-finished travel itinerary he barely planned to follow.
Perpignan, Three nights Maybe. A wedding. Photos of the buildings & cafes. Something about the venue & Of-course late night parties.
He tapped a few things in, then leaned back, eyes drifting to the window again. The scenery was changing now.
A good shot.
He reached into his bag again, this time pulling out his camera. Fingers adjusting the lens like second nature, he aimed it toward the window. The soft click of the shutter broke the stillness.
But through the viewfinder, he caught her again.
Selene. Framed in the glass and morning light. Her eyes weren't on the landscape—they were somewhere else entirely, distant and quiet, like she was looking at a memory only she could see.
He lowered the camera.
Didn't look away this time.
Instead, he let the quiet settle between them, studying the curve of her profile, the way her lips were slightly parted like she was holding a question. She didn't seem to notice, or maybe she did—but didn't care. That made him smile, just a little.
He looked down, then out again, fingers still loosely wrapped around the camera.
Something about her made the world slow down.
And Evan, who rarely stayed long enough to wonder about strangers, found himself not reaching for his headphones again.