6:59 AM, At the Ticket Gate

The station of origin had a high ceiling, large enough to fit a large gymnasium inside. Deep within, heading towards the pure white world beyond, lay a platform and five train tracks with uncanny parallelity. They stretched endlessly into the white void. Each line had a different train stopped at it and none of them looked familiar to ■. ■ stood alone on the platform lined with square pillars and advertisements. Even though it  was empty, you could hear someone speaking. Indistinct station announcements melded with robotic droning of a crowd, filling the pointlessly vast space intended just for ■. 

Twenty meters away in the middle of a row of ticket gates, ■ sat hugging their knees. An alarm blared, engulfing their head in noise, as if telling them they had to get out of there immediately.

■ stood with a sigh and passed through the turnstile. 

■ was approaching a decision. Of lines 1 to 5, Which will they choose?

Each of them has their own friends. Each of them exists in their own time and place. Each of them has their own world.

Which train shall you board, and which shall awaken? ■ is forced to decide.

I was able to do most things better than a normal person, I loved talking to people, I had many friends, and I did well on my tests. 

The teachers often scolded me, but that's because I tended to meddle in their illicit personal affairs. Still, they seemed to care about me in their own way; because they'd even ask me to join the committees for events and club activities. I've always had an extremely normal and perfect life because the people around me needed me.

Except for…that girl.

I'd be happy even if I was alone. That's why ■ hated me. I didn't like being given special treatment compared to the other four, even moreso since there was no reason for me to receive special treatment.

But ■ has been choosing the fourth line more often lately and that just made their loathing even deeper. If I can be what that girl calls "catchy", then life will be more fun

And yet, ■ couldn't resist.

If someone asked something of me, I wanted to meet their expectations.

I earnestly believed that once, but now I'm not so sure. It just seems like covering up your faults by hiding behind your own good deeds. In the end, was it really a worthwhile choice, even if it meant letting go of her hand–?

■ stood at the fourth line. They'd already given up on thinking. There is nothing ■ can do but choose. Only ■ can know. No one remembers them, and that girl never noticed them either. They would board the train, fall asleep, and the next time they opened their eyes, they would be inside that noisy ticket gate once more. Talking to her again would be a dream come true for them. But a dream is all that is. This current choice has no value nor any meaning behind it. Even if it did, the only thing it would change was how anxious they felt. Even if ■ weighed their heart against the girl's, no one would blame them for leaning toward one or the other. They put a lid on their emotions, then their feet carried their body forward automatically.

They sat in a bouncy, strongly green-colored seat. ■ lifted their feet, still wearing their shoes, onto the seat, hugged their knees to their body, and buried their face between them. Under normal circumstances, a bell would chime and the doors would shut, but today, time seemed to come to a standstill inside the train car. The rough sound of the air conditioner's motor reverberated off of the walls. This unusual turn of events made ■ feel uneasy, and they looked around at their surroundings. A huge desolate station, five trains, the hustle and bustle of a crowd, the droning of announcements they couldn't quite make out, and finally, at the end of the railway tracks, a blank void. An unchanging and sickeningly familiar sight. 

Their body from their seat. There wasn't supposed to be anyone at this station but them.

Something strange was happening in this dream.

Putting ■'s dismay aside, the girl stood outside the door of the train and smiled faintly, gazing directly at ■.  The bell rang twice–signalling the train's departure–and brought ■ back to their senses. They stumbled over to her, but the door closed on ■ as if mocking them.

"Wait–"

The girl flashed a lonely smile and waved at the door. She seemed to be saying, "I'm sorry."

Beneath their feet, the floorboards jerked as if the train itself was being jostled, and ■ tumbled over again. That girl–the one with the billowing black hair, the one who uttered that cursed word at me, the one who disliked the full moon, the one who disappeared from my line of sight–

Gradually, the train accelerated, leaving behind both her and my countless questions.

Her figure slowly grew smaller and smaller.

A pure white light soon swallowed up everything and ■ watched the station disintegrate into grains of sand. Their consciousness faded. They had a feeling they'd encounter that girl again.