I met him at a train station that smelled of coffee, iron, and other people’s farewells. He helped me lift my suitcase, and we ended up in the same compartment. We spoke about books, cities, and the fears even grown-ups hide. Night pulled the sky shut, and I fell asleep on his shoulder as if I had known him forever. At dawn, the train stopped, and he kissed my hand, saying, “We will meet again.” But in his eyes I read something else — “thank you for this night.” I don’t search for him. Some encounters must remain unfinished — otherwise they lose their magic.