The Last Light on Platform Seven

The Last Light on Platform Seven

Every evening at 6:40, the train arrived at Platform Seven.
And every evening, Elias stood there with his hands in his coat pockets, waiting for someone who never stepped off.

No one knew why he came. The station master guessed it was love. The tea seller guessed it was regret. Elias never corrected them.

One night, the power went out.

The station fell into darkness—except for a small yellow light glowing at the far end of the platform. Elias walked toward it. Sitting on a bench was a girl holding an old lantern, her face calm, her eyes familiar.

“You’re late,” she said softly.

“I know,” Elias replied, though he didn’t know why.

She stood and handed him the lantern. “You kept waiting instead of living.”

The lights suddenly flickered back on. The girl was gone. The lantern, too.

The train arrived, doors opening with a hiss.

For the first time in years, Elias stepped onto the train instead of waiting beside the tracks.

And Platform Seven was empty—finally at peace.