The Last Stop
The bus wheezed to a halt at the edge of town, its brakes screaming like they wanted out. Ethan was the only passenger left. The driver—a wiry man with sunken eyes—nodded toward the open door.
“Last stop.”
Ethan stepped down into the dust. The place was… silent. Not the peaceful kind—more like the air was waiting for something. The street was empty, shop windows dark, though a flickering neon sign over a diner read OPEN in jittery pink letters.
He went in. The bell over the door rang once, sharp as a knife.
Inside, a woman in a waitress uniform stood behind the counter. She didn’t move until Ethan sat at a booth. Then she walked over and poured coffee without asking.
“You’re late,” she said.
Ethan froze. “For what?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she slid a slice of pie toward him. The crust was golden, perfect. The steam rising from it smelled like cinnamon and autumn.
“You should eat,” she said. “You don’t have much time.”
His watch ticked in his ears. He took a bite. Sweetness, warmth—then a sharp cold that spread from his tongue to his chest.
The waitress watched him with eyes that seemed too old for her face. “It works fast. Don’t fight it.”
Ethan tried to stand but his legs were heavy, uncooperative. The edges of the room darkened.
“What… what is this place?” His voice cracked.
“Waystation,” she said, as if explaining the weather. “Some people stop here before they cross. Most don’t remember.”
Her hand was suddenly over his, cool and steady. “You’re going to remember, though. That’s why you’re here.”
Through the diner window, the street outside shimmered, like heat on asphalt. Shapes moved in the blur—figures walking somewhere he couldn’t see.
The darkness crept in deeper. Ethan’s panic thinned into confusion. “Cross to where?”
She smiled faintly. “Anywhere but here.”
The coffee cup on the table rattled, though he hadn’t touched it. The bell over the door rang again—only this time, no one came in.
The woman stood, smoothing her apron. “Your bus is ready.”
Ethan’s vision tunneled, the diner fading to a narrow strip of light. He heard the driver’s voice from far away:
“Last stop.”
Then the world went silent.
When Ethan opened his eyes, he was back in his apartment—only his own body was slumped in the chair across from him, eyes wide and unblinking.
