Thr man who lost time ( Original - Čovjek koji je izgubio vrijeme)

English version is down(scroll)

Krenuvši prekasno, odlučio je hodati svojim uobičajenim stilom prema odredištu. Hod mu je bio lagan i staložen, kao da su sve brige ovoga svijeta nestale. Došavši, sjeo je na klupu i zagledao se u daljinu. Žarko svjetlo polumjeseca probijalo mu je kapke dok je u potpunoj tišini sjedio na stanici čekajući prijevoz.

Ušao je.

Zagušljivo, natrpano. Takav je bio prijevoz. Pun ljudi koji negdje putuju.

Gdje?

Ne znaju ni oni sami.

Analizirajući vozilo, uputio se prema praznom sjedalu. Tik uz njega već je sjedila jedna gospođa. Stara, naborana. Ofucana haljina padala joj je preko starih, izmorenih nogu, dodirujući bosa stopala, dok joj je marama prekrivala masnu kosu. Opuštena koža zakrivala joj je oči.

Gospođa je spavala.

Zar je ovo jedino slobodno mjesto? – upitao se putnik dok je pokušavao izbjeći bilo kakav kontakt s njom.

Gospođa otvori oči.

Ali one nisu bile stare.

Bile su bistre. Bistre i plave.

Pogledale su putnika svom svojom dubinom, kao da traže odgovor u njegovoj duši.

– Oprostite – kaže putnik.

– Zbog čega? Zar sam nešto napravila? – odvrati starica.

– Zašto me gledate?

– Zar ne smijem?

– Ne znam.

– Je li vam neugodno? Potiču li moje oči neugodu u vama?

Putnik joj ne odgovori, već odvrati pogled i promijeni temu.

– Je li vam poznato odredište ovog prijevoza?

– Zar vama nije?

– Nemam vremena za ovo. Znate li ili ne znate?

– Da je samo tako jednostavno.

– Jednostavno? Ne može biti jednostavnije.

– Hahahaha.

– Zar ne možete odgovoriti na postavljeno pitanje? Kamo ja idem?

Starica ga pogleda.

– Kamo ti ideš nije isto što i odredište. Kad bih znala, pomogla bih ti, ali ne znam kamo te put vodi. Znam gdje možeš završiti. Svoj put moraš otkriti sam.

– Ali ovo je samo javni prijevoz – odgovori zbunjeno putnik.

– Možda stvarno jest. Ali možda...

Vozilo se zaustavi i otvori vrata.

– Ah... ovdje izlazim. Bilo mi je drago, dječače.

– Ali niste mi odgovorili.

– Zar nisam?

Starica ustane.

– Zbogom.

Izašla je, a prije nego što su se vrata zatvorila, dobacila:

– Sjena prati neviđeno.

Putnik, bez razumijevanja, ostane sjediti na sjedalu, potpuno smeten proteklim dijalogom.

Kola nastaviše dalje.

Putnik, sav umoran, odluči zaklopiti oči ne bi li usnuo san koji opušta.

Kapci su mu polagano padali, a glava se rastvorila i pustila maštu na vidjelo.

Brod.

To je sanjao putnik.

Brod usidren u luci. Cimao se na svakoj bitvi, zategnut poput zakašnjelog vremena. Jedra, zapravo, nije ni bilo. Brod je bio na motor. Parobrod na motor, ne na paru.

A putnik je stajao nasred rive, gledajući velebnost broda.

Zašto ja ne vozim nešto ovako? – upita se putnik.

– Sanjate li, gospodine? – odvrati nepoznat glas.

– Sanjam. Što? Ma nemojte.

– Što vidite tako velebno?

– Molim? Tko ste vi?

Polagano budeći se, putnik otvori oči i shvati da pored njega sjedi čovjek.

– Jesam li to pričao s vama?

– Dakako da jeste. San je prekrasna stvar.

– Ispričavam se. Pretpostavljam da djelujem čudno.

– Naprotiv, zanimljivo. Haha.

Čovjek je imao plavo odijelo. Na lijevom zapešću nosio je sat. Srebrni i smaragdni sat.

Zelena kazaljka svjetlucala je pri svjetlu vozila. Pokazivala je neko vrijeme koje putnik nije mogao vidjeti.

– Kamo putujete? – upita čovjek u plavom odijelu.

– Ne znam. Zar vi znate?

– Naravno da znam – odgovori čovjek. – Na posao.

– Ah.

– Samo kasnim. Kvragu i vrijeme.

Čovjek je neprestano gledao u kazaljke.

– Znate, vrijeme se neće usporiti.

– Ovo mi je sve jako stresno. Ne može li sat stati barem na malo? Znate, moram stići na sjednicu. Dobio sam povišenje.

– Drago mi je. Ali vrijeme ne staje.

– Zar vi odgovarate na sve? Svašta.

Ostatak puta proveli su šuteći.

Zar razgovor nije bitan? – promisli putnik.

Odredište... kao da ga moram imati.

Putnik zatvori oči i ponovno usne.

Dok je spavao, vozilo se punilo i praznilo. Neki bi sjeli, poneki bi stajali, ali vozilo nikada ne bi stalo.

Samo prividno.

Ubrzo, na određenoj stanici, ušla je majka s djetetom. Sva frustrirana i vidno uznemirena, majka je mahala rukama ne bi li pokušala objasniti nešto djetetu.

Mali gospodin nije se ni potrudio primijetiti je. Nastavio je gledati uspavanog putnika.

– Majko – prekinuvši je tijekom njezina zanovijetanja – zašto onaj čovjek spava?

– Zar bih ja to trebala znati? Vjerojatno je umoran.

– Idem ga pitati.

– Ma, sto, n...

Prije nego što je majka reagirala, dječačić se dovukao svojim sitnim nogama do putnika i, dodirujući mu koljeno, upitao:

– Zašto ti spavaš?

Nije bilo odgovora.

– Zašto spavaš? – nastavi dječačić, budeći putnika.

Podižući glavu, putnik zapazi kako neka sićušna osoba trese njegovo koljeno.

– Ma tko si sad ti?

– Zašto spavaš?

– Kakvo je to pitanje? Zar si me probudio radi toga?

– Mama kaže da si umoran. Što si sanjao?

– Zar je to isto?

– Ja sanjam ratove, znaš. Velike gradove kako se ruše dok ih vojske gaze. Sanjaš li ti to?

– Ja ne znam što sanjam. Ponekad zapamtim, ponekad ne. Sada se ne mogu sjetiti.

– Čega se zadnjeg sjećaš? Molim te, reci mi.

– Brod. Mislim da je bio brod privezan u luci.

– Jedrilica? Da nije možda gliser?

– Bio je parobrod. Ali na motor, ne na paru.

– Haghagha! – počeo se smijuckati mališan. – Na motor, hahghagh! Volim brodove, ali kad voze.

Dječak se nasmije.

– Znaš, idem ja natrag do majke.

Dječak se okrene i ode, ostavivši putnika opet samog.

Čudan mali – pomisli putnik i vrati se spavanju.

U jednom trenutku vozilo naglo zakoči.

Vrata se ne otvore, osim prvih. Onih tik uz vozača.

Putnik se probudi i odmah uvidi da je potpuno sam.

Vozilo je prazno.

Stajalo je.

Gdje su svi? Možda je ovo zadnja stanica.

Kako bi se uvjerio, putnik ustane sa svojeg sjedala i uputi se prema otvorenim vratima.

Došavši pred vrata, uvidi da ondje nema ničega.

Vrata su bila širom otvorena.

Gledajući prema van, nije se moglo ništa vidjeti.

Samo zvijezde.

Čak nije bilo ni tamno. Ni crno.

Jednostavno – ništa.

Valjda je ovo posljednja stanica.

– Gdje sam ovo? – upita vozača.

Ne dobije odgovor.

Primakne se bliže pa ponovno upita.

Tišina.

Kako bi vidio gdje je vozač, polako gurne glavu kroz mali prozorčić.

A onda...

– Molim?! Što je ovo?

Potpuno prazan prostor.

Nije bilo nikoga da upravlja velikim volanom.

Putnik ostane prestravljen.

San? Ovo nije stvarno. Ne može biti. Nema smisla. Zar sam u iluziji?

Shvativši da odgovor neće pronaći ovdje, putnik krene prema vratima i zakorači van.

Tek što je to učinio, uvidi da vani nema tla.

Ali bilo je prekasno.

Izgubio je korak i pao.

– NEEEEEEEEEE!

Vrištao je putnik dok je padao u beskonačnost.

Vozilo se svakog trenutka sve teže i teže vidjelo, sve dok nisu ostali samo obrisi guma.

Sve je bilo tiho.

Potpuna, zaglušujuća tišina preplavila je uši putnika.

Zvijezde koje je vidio iz vozila nestale su.

Nije bilo ničega.

Gluh sam. Slijep sam! Padam li ja uopće?

A onda odjednom putnik počne osjećati hladan povjetarac na svojim usnama.

I u drugom trenutku...

Pljas!

Putnik se ponovno našao u istim kolima iz kojih je pao.

Ganut i širom otvorenih očiju skenirao je okolinu.

Više nije bio sam.

Prijevoz je vozio dalje.

Glumeći da se ništa nije dogodilo, protegne se i nastavi sjediti, čekajući svoje odredište.

Sjedenje mu uskoro dosadi.

Ustane se i počne šetati gore-dolje vozilom, poput sata.

Tik-tak.

Tik-tak.

Gledajući oko sebe, zapazi da nitko ne obraća pažnju na ono što radi.

Možda sam previše monoton. Anomalija... možda im to treba.

Putnik, vraćajući se s kraja vozila, uzme zalet i skoči.

Pa još jednom.

I još jednom.

Ništa.

Stvarno ništa.

Oni se ne miču, kao da su zalijepljeni poput figura.

Možda su od voska.

Putnik priđe obližnjoj ženi i počne je dodirivati.

– Ajme, jeste li normalni?! – okrene se žena i opali mu šamar. – Perverznjak jedan!

Putnik se posramljeno okrene i nasloni na prazan zid.

Ali u istom času primijeti da ga nitko ne gleda.

Nema reakcije. Čak ni od žene.

Nastavila je gledati u prozor kroz koji nema ničega.

Izoliran u vlastitom postojanju, osjeti kako mu kroz grlo prolazi čudan impuls.

Ako me ne vide, možda će me čuti.

Odmakne se od zida, stane nasred prolaza i širom otvori usta.

Glas odjekne vozilom.

Vrijeme je tek izvezena zavjesa što skriva praznu scenu,

Na njoj lutke od pepela ponavljaju kretnju njenu.

I nitko ne vidi da se kazaljke unatrag vrte,

Dok lažne zvijezde iznad nas crte sudbine crte...

Pjesma se orila kroz zagušljiv zrak i odbijala od bistrih prozora, ne bi li našla put do svakog kutka vozila.

Putnik je plesao i skakao, prilazeći ljudima i unoseći im se u lica.

– Zar me ne čujete? Zar sam ja obična sjenka?

Nije bilo odgovora.

Više nije pokušavao.

Pomirio se s tišinom.

Sa samoćom.

Ponovno je sjeo pored čovjeka u plavom odijelu koji je i dalje gledao u svoj sat.

Ispred njega majka je nastavljala sa svojim predavanjem djetetu, koje je, dakako, nije nimalo slušalo.

Gledao je.

Samo ovog puta ne u putnika.

Ovog puta putnik je gledao u njega.

A dječak prema vratima.

Prema izlazu.

Promjena? – upita putnik samoga sebe. – Ne bi li to bio lijep prizor.

Tik-tak.

Tik-tak.

Micala se smaragdna kazaljka na satu gospodina u plavom.

Zar vrijeme teče?

Čovjek ga pogleda.

Ne odgovori.

Reakcija.

On je reagirao.

– ZAR VRIJEME TEČE?! – razdere se putnik.

Kako je izgovarao pitanje, glave se polagano počnu okretati prema njemu.

Prostrijele ga hladni pogledi.

Previše njih.

Ali jedan mu je zapeo za oko.

Bio je to pogled dječaka koji je i dalje gledao vrata.

– Nećeš mi odgovoriti, dječače? – upita ga putnik.

– Hagahagaga... parobrod na motor – smijući se odgovori dječak, ne mičući pogled od vrata.

A onda glave prestanu gledati.

Putnik se okrene prema plavom čovjeku ne bi li promotrio njegov pogled, ali primijeti kako sat mijenja kucanje.

Tik-tak.

Tak-tak-tak-tik.

Oglasila se smaragdna kazaljka, a onda...

Tišina.

Kucanje je stalo.

– Hahagaga... parobrod na motor – čuo se dječak u potpunoj muklini.

– Zar takav sat može otkazati? – začuđeno će putnik.

– Ne razumijem što govorite – odvrati mu plavi gospodin.

– Vaš sat. Stao je.

– Oprostite, ali vi ste potpuno ludi.

Gospodin podigne ruku i približi sat putniku.

– Sad vidite. On radi.

Sat je uistinu radio.

Tak-tik.

Tak-tik.

Putnik protrlja oči.

Promjena.

Dogodila se.

Iluzija. Ovo je nemoguće.

U tom trenutku vozilo stane.

Vrata se otvore.

Zrake svjetlosti uđu kroz tamna vrata vozila i obasjaju lica putnika.

– Mama! Mama! Stanica! Gledaj, stanica! Je li ovdje izlazimo? – vrištao je dječak.

– Ne, mili. Mi smo na sljedećoj.

I gle čuda.

Vani je stvarno bila stanica.

Srebrni stupovi sjajili su se na dnevnom svjetlu, ulazeći u tamni beton. Nasred stanice prostrla se klupa.

Rupičasta klupa.

No nije bila prazna.

Na njoj je sjedila starica.

Ofucana i osušena.

Svojim plavim očima pogledala je putnika i rekla:

– Ipak nisi lutka od pepela.

– Odredište?

– Odabir. Ali promjena sigurno.

– Onda izlazim.

– Ako želiš.

– Što ako sanjam?

Starica se nasmiješi.

– Već znaš odgovor na to.

Putnik ustane i još jednom pogleda sat.

Kucao je.

Zakorači van.

– Sretno.

Glas je čuo iza sebe, ali kad se okrenuo, vozila više nije bilo.

Zagleda se u daljinu pa vrati pogled na staricu.

– Vaše oči...

Starica ga pogleda svojim bistrim, plavim očima.

– Sad razumiješ.

Putnik šuti.

– Idi – reče ona. – I ne gledaj iza. Ja sam tek prazna pozornica.

– Onda... zbogom.

Starica se osmjehne i ostane sjediti na stanici, gledajući kako putnik odlazi.

Malo-pomalo pretvarala se u pepeo.

Sve dok potpuno nije iščeznula.

English

Having set out too late, he decided to walk toward his destination in his usual, unhurried manner. His steps were light and composed, as though every worry in the world had simply vanished. When he arrived, he sat down on a bench and gazed into the distance. The pale, burning light of the half-moon pressed against his eyelids as he sat in complete silence at the station, waiting for his ride.

He got on.

Hot. Crowded. That was what the vehicle was like. Full of people going somewhere.

Where?

They did not know themselves.

Taking in the vehicle, he made his way toward an empty seat. Right beside it sat an old woman who had apparently been there for some time. Old, wrinkled. A worn-out dress hung over her aged, weary legs, brushing against her bare feet, while a scarf covered her greasy hair. Loose, weathered skin concealed her eyes.

The woman was asleep.

Is this really the only seat left? the traveler wondered, trying to avoid any kind of contact with her.

The woman opened her eyes.

But they were not old.

They were clear.

Clear and blue.

They looked into the traveler with such depth that it seemed as though they were searching for an answer buried somewhere in his soul.

“Excuse me,” said the traveler.

“For what? Have I done something?” the old woman replied.

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Am I not allowed to?”

“I don't know.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Do my eyes stir something uneasy within you?”

The traveler did not answer. Instead, he looked away and changed the subject.

“Do you know where this vehicle is going?”

“Don't you?”

“I don't have time for this. Do you know or not?”

“If only it were that simple.”

“Simple? It couldn't be simpler.”

“Hahahaha.”

“Can't you answer the question? Where am I going?”

The old woman looked at him.

“Where you are going is not the same as the destination. If I knew, I would help you. But I do not know where your path will lead you. I know where you may end up. You must discover your own path.”

“But this is just public transportation,” the traveler replied, confused.

“Perhaps it is. But perhaps…”

The vehicle came to a stop and the doors opened.

“Ah… this is where I get off. It was nice meeting you, boy.”

“But you never answered me.”

“Didn't I?”

The old woman stood.

“Goodbye.”

She stepped outside, and just before the doors closed, she called back:

“Shadow follows the unseen.”

The traveler remained seated, utterly bewildered by the strange conversation.

The vehicle continued on.

Exhausted, the traveler decided to close his eyes and drift into a dream that might bring him some peace.

His eyelids slowly fell shut, and his mind opened, letting his imagination rise to the surface.

A boat.

That was what the traveler dreamed of.

A boat moored in a harbor. It rocked against its lines, pulling taut like time running late. There were no sails. The boat was powered by an engine.

A motorboat disguised as a steamer.

The traveler stood in the middle of the waterfront, staring at the vessel in awe.

“Why don't I travel on something like this?” he wondered.

“Are you dreaming, sir?” a strange voice replied.

“I'm dreaming. Of what? Oh, come on.”

“What do you see that is so magnificent?”

“Excuse me? Who are you?”

Slowly waking, the traveler opened his eyes and realized that a man was sitting beside him.

“Was I talking to you?”

“Indeed you were. Dreams are a beautiful thing.”

“I apologize. I suppose I must seem strange.”

“Quite the opposite. Interesting, actually. Haha.”

The man wore a blue suit. On his left wrist was a watch—silver and emerald-green.

Its green hand glimmered beneath the dim light of the vehicle. It pointed toward a time the traveler could not make out.

“Where are you going?” asked the man in the blue suit.

“I don't know. Do you?”

“Of course I do,” the man replied. “To work.”

“Ah.”

“I'm just running late. Damn time.”

The man kept staring at the hands of his watch.

“You know, time isn't going to slow down.”

“This is all terribly stressful. Couldn't the clock stop for just a little while? I have to make it to a meeting. I got a promotion.”

“I'm happy for you. But time doesn't stop.”

“Do you have an answer for everything? Good grief.”

They spent the rest of the journey in silence.

Isn't conversation supposed to mean something? the traveler wondered.

The destination… as if I must have one.

The traveler closed his eyes and fell asleep once more.

While he slept, the vehicle filled and emptied. Some people sat, others stood, but the vehicle itself never stopped.

Only seemingly.

Soon, at one of the stops, a mother entered with her child. Frustrated and visibly agitated, she waved her hands as she tried to explain something to him.

The little gentleman paid her no attention. His eyes remained fixed on the sleeping traveler.

“Mother,” he interrupted her lecture, “why is that man sleeping?”

“How should I know? He's probably tired.”

“I'll go ask him.”

“Don't you—”

Before his mother could stop him, the boy toddled over on his tiny legs and, touching the traveler's knee, asked:

“Why are you sleeping?”

There was no answer.

“Why are you sleeping?” the boy asked again, shaking the traveler awake.

The traveler lifted his head and found a tiny person standing beside him, shaking his knee.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“Why are you sleeping?”

“What kind of question is that? You woke me up just to ask that?”

“Mum says you're tired. What were you dreaming about?”

“Does it matter?”

“I dream about wars, you know. Great cities collapsing while armies crush them beneath their feet. Do you dream about that?”

“I don't know what I dream about. Sometimes I remember. Sometimes I don't. I can't remember this time.”

“What is the last thing you remember? Please, tell me.”

“A boat. I think it was a boat moored in a harbor.”

“A sailboat? Maybe a speedboat?”

“It was a steamer. But it had an engine. Not steam.”

“Hagahagha!” the boy began to giggle. “A motorized steamer! Hahghagh! I like boats, but only when they move.”

The boy laughed.

“You know, I'm going back to my mother.”

He turned and walked away, leaving the traveler alone once again.

Strange little boy, the traveler thought, returning to his sleep.

At one point, the vehicle suddenly slammed on its brakes.

The doors remained closed—except for the front ones, beside the driver.

The traveler woke and immediately realized that he was completely alone.

The vehicle was empty.

It had stopped.

Where is everyone? Maybe this is the final stop.

To make sure, the traveler rose from his seat and walked toward the open doors.

When he reached them, he realized there was nothing outside.

The doors stood wide open.

He looked out.

Nothing could be seen.

Only stars.

It wasn't even dark. It wasn't black.

It was simply… nothing.

I suppose this is the last stop.

“Where am I?” he asked the driver.

No answer.

He moved closer and asked again.

Silence.

To see where the driver was, he slowly leaned his head through the little window.

And then—

“What the hell?”

There was no one behind the enormous steering wheel.

No one was driving.

The traveler froze in terror.

A dream? This isn't real. It can't be. None of this makes sense. Am I trapped inside an illusion?

Realizing he would find no answers here, the traveler walked toward the doors and stepped outside.

The moment his foot left the vehicle, he realized there was no ground beneath him.

But it was too late.

He lost his footing and fell.

“NOOOOO!”

The traveler screamed as he plunged into infinity.

The vehicle grew smaller and smaller until only the faint outline of its wheels remained.

Everything was silent.

A complete, deafening silence swallowed the traveler's ears.

The stars he had seen from the vehicle disappeared.

There was nothing.

I'm deaf. I'm blind! Am I even falling?

Then, suddenly, the traveler felt a cold breeze against his lips.

And in the very next moment—

SPLASH!

The traveler found himself back inside the same vehicle from which he had fallen.

Shaken and wide-eyed, he scanned his surroundings.

He was no longer alone.

The vehicle was moving again.

Pretending that nothing had happened, he stretched and settled back into his seat, waiting for his destination.

Before long, sitting became unbearable.

He stood and began pacing up and down the vehicle, like the hands of a clock.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

Looking around, he noticed that no one paid the slightest attention to him.

Maybe I'm too predictable. An anomaly… perhaps that's what they need.

Returning from the back of the vehicle, the traveler took a running start and jumped.

Then again.

And again.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

They did not move, as though they had been glued in place.

Perhaps they're made of wax.

The traveler approached a nearby woman and began touching her.

“Are you insane?!” the woman snapped, turning toward him and slapping him across the face. “You pervert!”

Embarrassed, the traveler turned away and leaned against an empty wall.

But in the very same moment, he noticed that nobody was looking at him.

No reaction.

Not even from the woman.

She simply continued staring through the window, beyond which there was nothing.

Isolated within his own existence, the traveler felt a strange impulse rise in his throat.

If they cannot see me, perhaps they can hear me.

He stepped away from the wall, stood in the middle of the aisle, and opened his mouth wide.

His voice echoed through the vehicle.

Time is but an embroidered curtain hiding an empty stage,

upon it, puppets made of ash repeat their endless motions.

And no one sees the hands of the clock turning backward,

while false stars above us draw the lines of fate…

The poem rang through the suffocating air, bouncing from the clear windows as it searched for a way into every corner of the vehicle.

The traveler danced and leapt, approaching the passengers, getting right into their faces.

“Can't you hear me? Am I nothing but a shadow?”

There was no answer.

He stopped trying.

He surrendered to the silence.

To the loneliness.

Once again, he sat beside the man in the blue suit, who was still staring at his watch.

Across from him, the mother continued her lecture to the child, who, naturally, was paying no attention whatsoever.

He watched.

Only this time, he wasn't watching the traveler.

This time, the traveler was watching him.

And the boy was staring at the doors.

At the exit.

A change? the traveler asked himself. Wouldn't that be a beautiful sight?

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

The emerald hand moved across the watch of the man in blue.

Does time really pass?

The man looked at him.

He did not answer.

A reaction.

He had reacted.

“DOES TIME REALLY PASS?!” the traveler shouted.

As he spoke, the passengers' heads slowly began to turn toward him.

Cold eyes pierced through him.

Far too many.

But one gaze caught his attention.

It belonged to the boy, who was still staring at the doors.

“You won't answer me, boy?” the traveler asked.

“Hagahagaga… a motorized steamer,” the boy replied with a laugh, never taking his eyes from the doors.

Then the heads turned away.

The traveler looked back toward the man in blue, wanting to see his expression, but noticed that the watch had changed its rhythm.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tick-tick-tock.

The emerald hand trembled.

And then…

Silence.

The ticking stopped.

“Hahagaga… a motorized steamer,” the boy's voice echoed through the complete stillness.

“Can a watch like that stop working?” the traveler asked, bewildered.

“I don't understand what you're saying,” the gentleman in blue replied.

“Your watch. It stopped.”

“I'm sorry, but you're completely insane.”

The man raised his arm and brought the watch closer to the traveler.

“Now you see? It's working.”

The watch was indeed ticking.

Tak-tik.

Tak-tik.

The traveler rubbed his eyes.

Change.

It happened.

An illusion. This is impossible.

At that very moment, the vehicle stopped.

The doors opened.

Beams of daylight streamed through the dark doorway, illuminating the faces of the passengers.

“Mom! Mom! A station! Look, a station! Is this where we get off?” the boy cried.

“No, sweetheart. We're getting off at the next one.”

And, lo and behold—

there really was a station outside.

Silver pillars gleamed in the daylight, disappearing into the dark concrete. In the middle of the station stood a bench.

A perforated bench.

But it wasn't empty.

The old woman was sitting there.

Worn-out and withered.

She looked at the traveler with those clear blue eyes and said:

“So you weren't an ash puppet after all.”

“Destination?”

“Choice. But change, certainly.”

“Then I'm getting off.”

“If you wish.”

“What if I'm dreaming?”

The old woman smiled.

“You already know the answer.”

The traveler stood and looked at the watch one last time.

It was ticking.

He stepped outside.

“Good luck.”

He heard the voice behind him, but when he turned around, the vehicle was gone.

He stared into the distance, then turned his eyes back toward the old woman.

“Your eyes…”

The old woman looked at him with those clear, blue eyes.

“Now you understand.”

The traveler said nothing.

“Go,” she said. “And don't look back. I am only an empty stage.”

“Then… goodbye.”

The old woman smiled and remained seated on the station bench, watching the traveler walk away.

Slowly, little by little, she began to turn to ash.

Until, at last, she vanished completely.Write about a character who notices something others cannot — or refuse to — see.”