A quiet train station at dusk, washed in hues of deep orange and soft lavender. The tracks glisten faintly with the remnants of a passing rain, reflecting the glow of dim, flickering lamps. A solitary bench sits beneath a weathered clock, its hands frozen as if unwilling to mark the next hour. Nearby, an old suitcase rests, its leather cracked and corners frayed, telling silent stories of distant travels. In the distance, the faint whistle of a departing train fades into the stillness, leaving behind only the rhythmic dripping of water from the station roof. The scene feels timeless, like a memory caught between arrival and departure.