He stared at the pale blue lettering of another station sign he did not recall. Now too far gone to ever possibly make it back home that night. The houses beyond the platform cut indigo shades against the dark. Yet he felt certain that if he stirred, the figure who watched him would take him not a step from the carriage doors.

It had stalked him for weeks. Loomed behind the plate glass of shop doorways and hung back through the glint of supermarket windows in the time since he opened that vellum tome. He felt it waited for him to be alone.

That evening he thought he had seen it waiting on each platform. He would know soon that it had been a reflection all this time. After the last passenger alighted he pressed the door close button more times than was necessary.

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