Prologue

The sound of his black leather shoes click-clacked against the haphazardly placed stones, accompanying the birdsong that filled the cool air. Breathing in deeply, he let the new day fill his lungs, and then exhaled a whirly white plume which danced into the dark sky. Everything looked like it did every morning; as he scanned the station, he found nothing different in his routine of walking across the platform.
With lidded eyes, his gaze wandered to the tracks which would soon catch the rays of the sun, and then to the ticket booth.
Suddenly, he noticed that something was different today.
In fact, the obvious difference was that the bench which sat close to the booth, usually vacant at this time, was taken.
Stopping in his tracks, he narrowed his eyes and watched as the quiet lump grew and shrank, its sides rising and falling with every slow breath it took. A person was lying there — they were curled up and deep in sleep, he realized with mounting surprise.
At length, he resumed walking across the platform with cautious steps, closing the distance between the stranger and himself.
A blackbird flitted overhead just as he stopped and hovered over the slumbering mound. He pushed his hands into his pockets, and furrowed his brow.
Is this person not from around here?
It was only natural to think so, given that everyone in Sorrel Wood wouldn’t dare come near the dreaded, cursed train station.
Close up, he could now see that the person was a young man. He wore a tweed jacket, dark cotton pants, and a beige cap which obscured his face. The hat was the rowdiest of the bunch, fighting against a breeze for a good grip on the youngster’s head.
A strange sensation washed over him, causing his frown to deepen. There was something odd about this sleeping boy, but what was it? Further compounding his intrigue was the way a name hadn’t come up yet.
Strange… Do I know him from somewhere?
Perhaps if he could get a better look at what was under the brim of the hat, he would find his answer.
Trying to be as careful as he could so as not to wake him, he reached out and peeled the hat off of the boy’s head with his shapely fingers. Suddenly, hazel-coloured locks bloomed and spilled downward toward the ground. Hand hovering, his breath caught in his throat.
With widening eyes, he took in her soft features, which were partly coloured by the solemn lamp adorning the ticket booth. Her lashes were long, and her shapely lips were slightly parted while she slept.
Another blackbird flew overhead, complaining about something. Its cry filled the air and then died out, leaving behind a heavy silence as every other creature stood still and stayed quiet for a few moments.
Sharp eyes pierced her soft, sleeping face. He pressed his lips into a thin line, and found that his free hand had curled itself into a tight fist.
Then, just as gently as he had pried the hat away, he let it sit back on her head, and slowly let go of the breath he was holding.
You idiot. You should’ve never come to me…