The Ticket Without a Destination

The last train left the station at midnight, but Eli stayed on the platform, holding a ticket

that no longer named a destination. Snow fell lightly, blurring the tracks until they looked

like chalk lines someone had forgotten to erase. The loudspeaker crackled once,

as if to say something important, then fell silent again. Eli checked his

watch. It hadn’t moved all evening. He sat on a bench and unfolded the

ticket. On the back, in handwriting he didn’t recognize, were the words:

Stay until you remember why you came. At first, nothing happened. Then a woman walked

past, humming a tune Eli almost knew. A child ran after a drifting mitten,