Translated from RU
I am sitting in a train that moves slowly through a night forest. Outside the window, flickering lights appear, resembling lanterns, but each one blinks like a breath.
There is no one in the carriage, only an old suitcase on the seat beside me. On it, there is a sticker with my name written in childish handwriting.
I open the suitcase and see a handful of sand and a small clock without hands.
As the train passes through a tunnel, the clock begins to tick softly.
I lift my eyes and notice that in the reflection of the window, the carriage is filled with people, but they are all looking down.
The train emerges from the tunnel, and I am alone again.
Only the sand in the suitcase continues to trickle slowly, as if time is still passing.
