Ethan pointed down the line, breathless. “There’s a puppy on the rails. It’s alive, but it’s not moving. The train’s coming.” The man frowned, eyes narrowing as if deciding whether to believe him. “You sure it’s not trash? Happens all the time.”
“Does trash move?” Ethan shot back. “Please look!” That snapped him into motion. The station master grabbed his field glasses from a hook and stepped outside. He steadied his elbows on the railing, scanning the sunlit distance. The seconds stretched painfully long. Ethan could hear nothing but the low hum beneath his feet and the faint tick of the cooling metal.