The young man swallowed the next question and fell silent for a moment. He stared closely at Nina's face. He locked his phone and put it in the pocket next to his jacket. Finally, he replied:

"A few months ago, but..."

"That’s enough confirmation for me," she interrupted, standing up from her seat. She grabbed her bag from beside her and held onto the wall as the train began to brake at the next station. "Come with me."

"What? No, wait, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to Versaw." Phillip stood up but moved away from Nina, pressing himself into the corner of the compartment. "Who are you, what do you want from me?"

"I know you lied. You don’t have any room, and you’re not going to any friends," she replied, putting on her coat. "You’re lost, you don’t know what to do, and you’re damn lucky you ran into one of us so soon. I’m getting off here, hurry up. Versaw won’t run away," she said, walking past him and sliding open the door. She felt him flinch. He took a step forward and reached out, as if trying to stop her, but pulled back when she didn’t change her pace. She continued on and, not looking back, called out:

"Hurry up, hurry up, it won’t stop here for long!"

She could almost see his brain trying to analyze what he just heard.

She left him frozen and went across the corridor to open the train door. She stopped for a bit to let a family with children go ahead. Nina smiled at the little boy who, in his mother’s arms, was passionately trying to tear off her necklace, occasionally attempting it with his few teeth. She liked children. She helped the sweating woman move a blocked suitcase and nodded at the words of thanks.

Nina carefully descended the steps onto the platform and stood a few steps away, bidding the cheerful family farewell with a glance. She perked up her eyes, looking at the station sign. Mayway.

After a moment, Phillip appeared, breathless, with his backpack in one hand and jacket in the other. Nina was about to make a joke, but he preempted her, looking down at her with glazed eyes.

"I thought… I was alone…" he said quietly, choking on his words. "I didn’t know what to do."

"I know," she replied straightforwardly. "Come, calm your breath."

She directed him to a bench and gestured for him to sit, but he just tossed his backpack and stood next to her. He towered over her by at least a head. His youthful face expressed pain, confusion, and sadness.

"How old are you now? How did you die?" she asked, sitting on the bench and adjusting her coat.

Phillip finally sat beside her and stared down at his shoes. He ruffled his bangs more, messing up his hair.

"It feels strange to talk about it. So you too…?"

"Yes, but first I want to hear your story. We’ve got a minute or two, and then we need to go." She looked at the station's clock.

He was silent for a moment, as though organizing his thoughts. When he spoke again, his voice sounded different—more mature and calmer.

"I’m eighteen now, just turned," he said.

Nina nodded. She guessed pretty close.

"When you died, I guess you weren’t much older?"

"I was thirty," he said, surprising Nina. She thought he was younger, given how believable he seemed as a teenager.

"I had a motorbike accident, I died in the hospital," he continued on his own—"One moment I hear the nurses and the beeping, it hurt so much."

He continued to fidget with his fingers, still hunched over.

"In the next moment, I wake up as if nothing happened, in my bed at my childhood apartment. My mom’s bustling in the kitchen, my cat’s sleeping next to me on the pillow. I don’t know how long I stayed there, I heard my mom leave for work and close the door. And… that’s how it started again. It was in December."

He wiped his mouth nervously and looked at her sideways.

"Aren’t you still in high school?" she asked, frowning. "What are you doing here in the middle of the week?"

He chuckled.

"At this point, that’s probably an irrelevant concern, don’t you think?" he asked, amused.

"Not necessarily," she replied. "It’s not easy, but it’s important to not fall behind and adapt quickly. So?—" she pressed.

"I’m already eighteen," he said, shrugging. "I was never a model student, often skipped classes. I don’t have a dad, and my mom… well, she reacted with relief when I said I wanted to move out and change schools. You see, she didn’t love me much. She didn’t even notice when I changed at some point," he said with a sour smile.

Nina felt sorry for him. Paradoxically, the fact nobody was close to him worked in his favor now, but she heard the regret in his voice for the unfulfilled desire for familial safety.

"So, you too?" she heard from him after a moment.

"Me too," she replied lightly. "A long story, or rather, a lot of long stories." She stood up from the bench. "Welcome to the club," she extended her hand with a smile. "There are quite a few of us here. In time, you’ll learn everything, and we’ll figure out together what to do with you."

"Are there many of us like this?" he asked, standing up and taking Nina’s hand. "I’d like to meet them."

"Then, I must admit, you picked the perfect moment for your journey." She said, heading toward the exit of the platform and waving her hand for him to follow.

"As it happens, I’m heading to meet them now."