I've always loved to ride trains, memories from my teenage years popping up in my head every time I mention the trip. Playing the guitar in the dead of night, sleeping on the top shelf when you almost fall into the opening and of course the opportunity to enjoy time alone.

With age, the ardor for trains subsided, I stopped riding them, as well as communicating with those who shared all my emotions in the past.

In my senior year of music school, I received a tempting offer. A competition for violinists, where everyone has to perform their own song. Not that I was going to build my future on a musical career, but an extra reward for first place would not hurt when entering, so without hesitation, I discussed everything with my teacher.

**

With a confident step, I walk through the crowded station, looking around and sighing enthusiastically. A lot has changed since my last time, including people.

A large enough man crashes into me, immediately bursting into a wave of curses, and then I hear it. The loudspeaker announces the boarding of my train. I find my compartment with difficulty, turning to one of the conductors for help. The door, surprisingly, was not closed, leaving a small gap for all curious people.

I comfortably take the case in my hand with the violin in it, and then open the door completely and freeze in place. A guy is sitting on one of the seats at the table, which is located in the middle of the compartment. Minso runs a straw along the white stripe on the table with one end, and presses the other to his nose, taking a deep breath. Lord, why do I need this damn hell?