The Midnight Passenger

She had been riding the same bus line for three years without incident. The 1:47 AM express was always quiet, carrying four passengers at most: night shift hospital workers, airport custodians, and herself.

The Warning from Seat 7B

The man in seat 7B wore a tailored grey trench coat that seemed completely out of place for rain-soaked upholstery. His hands were clasped over a leather briefcase with unmoving stillness.

"Do not signal at Grand Avenue," he whispered without turning. "The platform was dismantled thirty years ago."

When she glanced out into the black fog, the streetlamps vanished. In their place stood a vast field of silver reeds glowing beneath unseen moonlight.