She stepped into the neon glow, echoes of the old world fading behind her, almost forgotten, but not quite. Time is a circle, never ending, never beginning, just looping over itself...
The train... it always comes at dusk, no one really sees it until it's almost too late. Yet, some say it carries souls, spirits lost in the fabric of time, drifting between reality and dreams.
"Are you ready?" he asked, though the question lingered long after its utterance. Her gaze was fixed, not on him, but beyond the horizon where whispers met the wind.
The clock tower chimed, every note a reminder of the past that cannot be erased, the future that bends and reshapes, molding around the choices made in shadows.
Echo Illusion Shadowplay