*The Last Train Home With its headlights piercing the fog like a dagger, the final train arrived at the run-down station as the clock struck midnight. An elderly guy crouched on a wooden bench, holding a faded leather luggage, but otherwise the platform was almost deserted. Emily, a young lady with weary eyes and a shabby coat, emerged from the train, her breath catching in the cold air. With a beating heart, she glanced around. She had no intention of returning. Too many ghosts and too many memories haunted the community. Even though he looked feeble, the old man's eyes were keen when he saw her. With a gravelly voice, he questioned, "Are you here to create new memories or to preserve the legacy?" "Neither, I guess," Emily said, trying to smile. "Merely passing through." He laughed quietly. "Don't we all just go through this?" Emily looked toward the borders of the platform, where wildflowers were sprouting through the concre...