No one remembered building the station.

It stood alone in the middle of an endless meadow, where the grass was the color of faded emerald glass. A single railway stretched toward two horizons that curved upward like the inside of a bowl, disappearing into clouds that reflected the world below instead of the sky above.

There was no town.

No passengers.

Only a wooden bench, a clock with no hands, and the soft sound of distant trains that never arrived.

Liora visited the station every afternoon.

Not because she lived nearby—there was no nearby—but because every path she chose somehow led back to it.

One day, someone else was already sitting on the bench.

A young traveler wearing a navy cloak quietly watched the empty rails.

"You've been here before," Liora said.

"I don't think so."

"Then why do you look like someone I've been waiting for?"

The traveler smiled.

"Maybe someone else has been waiting for me."

Silence settled between them.

It wasn't an awkward silence.

It felt like warm tea left on a windowsill during gentle rain.

Above them floated dozens of umbrellas, drifting slowly across the sky like jellyfish. None of them belonged to anyone.

Far away, rain could be seen falling.

It painted silver curtains over distant hills.

But not a single drop ever reached the station.

"I wonder why the rain stops there," the traveler whispered.

Liora looked upward.

"Maybe it doesn't want to interrupt conversations."

The traveler laughed softly.

The floating umbrellas tilted together, as though laughing too.

A train whistle echoed across the meadow.

Neither of them moved.

Instead, the railway quietly folded itself into hundreds of glowing ribbons that floated upward, becoming streams of tiny fish made of light.

The fish swam through the air.

Some disappeared into clouds.

Others rested among flowers that grew upside down beneath invisible branches.

The station had changed again.

It often did.

Sometimes it became a library whose shelves contained bottled sunsets.

Sometimes it became an old greenhouse where stars bloomed instead of roses.

Today, it decided to become a shoreline.

The wooden floor slowly transformed into warm white sand.

Gentle waves rolled across the platform without making anything wet.

Paper boats drifted peacefully over the sea, each carrying a tiny lantern that glowed with colors no one had names for.

The traveler stood.

"Should we follow them?"

"Where do they go?"

"I don't know."

"Perfect."

They stepped onto the calm water.

Instead of sinking, the sea became thousands of soft piano keys beneath their feet.

Every step played a quiet note.

The melody lingered behind them, refusing to fade.

Ahead floated a moon much smaller than it should have been.

Close enough to touch.

Liora reached out.

Instead of feeling stone, her fingers brushed warm feathers.

The moon unfolded into a giant white bird, carrying an entire forest upon its back.

Trees swayed gently although there was no wind.

Tiny houses hung from their branches like fruit.

Smoke curled lazily from chimneys into the night, where it transformed into glowing constellations.

The bird circled once above them.

One feather drifted down.

When it landed on the sea of piano keys, it quietly became a little wooden bridge.

The traveler crossed first.

Liora followed.

Halfway across, she looked back.

The station was already gone.

The bench.

The clock.

The endless meadow.

Everything had vanished as though it had only existed while someone was looking at it.

"Will we ever find it again?" she asked.

The traveler thought for a moment.

"I don't think places like that are found."

"What then?"

"They simply decide they're lonely."

The bridge ended before an old blue door standing all by itself beneath the open sky.

No walls.

No house.

Only the door.

The traveler placed a hand upon the handle.

"What do you think is behind it?"

Liora smiled.

"I hope it's somewhere that has good weather."

The door opened.

Warm evening light spilled through.

They stepped inside together.

The blue door gently closed.

Far away, somewhere beyond memory, an empty station quietly waited beneath rain that still refused to fall.