The rain is relentless, a grey curtain blurring the edges of the city. She’s standing on a deserted platform, the wind whipping her hair across her face. Her suitcase, battered and worn, sits beside her, a silent testament to a journey abruptly halted. The departure board flickers, displaying a single, stark word: “Cancelled.” She clutches a crumpled photograph in her hand – a laughing face, a sun-drenched memory – and the rain seems to wash away the color from everything around her. Her shoulders slump, and a single tear traces a path through the grime on her cheek, lost in the downpour. The echoing emptiness of the station feels like a physical weight, pressing down on her, leaving her utterly and completely adrift.