Endless Platform to the Bakery‑Office Hallway

Endless Platform to the Bakery‑Office Hallway

I was running late for the morning train, the usual rush through the station, but the platform stretched on forever. Every announcement was the same, “The 8:15 to Central is now boarding,” yet the doors never opened. I tried to pull out my phone to check the schedule, but the screen showed a map of my old high school hallway, the lockers I used in sophomore year, and a coffee shop I’ve never been to. I turned a corner and found the familiar bakery on Main Street, but it was also the lobby of my office building, with my coworkers sipping espresso while my boss was sitting at a desk that looked like my dad’s garage workbench. A woman I hadn’t seen since college—her smile was half‑my mother’s—walked past, holding a briefcase that was also a stroller. I called out her name, but the sound came out as a train whistle. Panic rose, then I woke up to the smell of toast and the alarm buzzing, still half‑caught in that endless hallway.