The whispers beneath the rain, pattering softly on the rooftop, remind me of childhood secrets shared in dim-lit basements. Those echoes feel closer now, like shadows in a sun-split afternoon, watching and waiting.

Do you remember the carnival, long before the lights dimmed and the laughter vanished? I can still taste the cotton candy, while the carousel spun stories no one else heard. Time slipped through our fingers like sand, and we never asked why.

Once, we missed the train, and our lives unfurled differently in that split second. The station's clock ticked away opportunities, yet we lingered in the coffee-scented air, pondering dreams not ours, stories not written. Did you see the ghost of that station, standing where past meets present?