Rushing to the 8 a.m. train ends on a Luna‑4 hallway

Rushing to the 8 a.m. train ends on a Luna‑4 hallway

I was rushing to catch the 8 a.m. train to the office, but the platform was a sleek, vaulted hallway that stretched far beyond the station. The digital sign flickered, showing a departure time for a ship heading to "Luna‑4" instead of a train. I fumbled for my badge, but it was a tiny holo‑card that kept slipping through my fingers. A colleague I hadn't seen since college—Maya, but also my old manager—stood beside me, wearing a uniform that was half business suit, half flight jacket. She smiled, then looked at me like she was two different people at once. The train doors opened, revealing rows of seats that looked like cockpit chairs, and I stepped inside, only to realize I was still in my apartment hallway, the carpet turning into a low‑gravity runway. I tried to run to the door, but my feet barely left the floor. Panic rose, then a sudden calm as the hallway lights dimmed and a soft voice announced, "Next stop: home." I woke up just as the voice faded, still half‑dressed for work.