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Ail sits alone in the dimly lit train car, their small bag clutched tightly in their lap. The wooden seat beneath them creaks with every shift of the train, the rhythmic chugging of the engine a steady drumbeat beneath their thoughts. They should feel triumphant. They have done it. They have left.
But their hands tremble.
Outside the window, the world blurs into streaks of darkness, the countryside melting into the unknown—the circus tent, once their entire world, is far behind them now. There is no turning back.
They exhale, steadying themselves. This is what they wanted. The city is out there, waiting for them, waiting to be conquered. They picture it—shining marquees, the smell of freshly printed film posters, their name in flashing lights alongside the greats.
Somewhere in their pocket, their fingers brush against the crumpled newspaper clipping—the audition announcement.
"New Film Auditions Open – The Search for the Next Star."
The ink is smudged from how often they've unfolded and refolded it.
They close their eyes and let the train rock them forward.
Then, a voice cuts through the silence.
"Running from something?"
Ail startles. Across from them sits a man—no, a boy, barely older than them. His suit is a little too big for his frame, his tie askew. He has a smirk that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Or running to something?" he asks.
Ail stares at him.
He shrugs, tapping his fingers against the window. "People like us don't take trains at midnight unless we're desperate."
They don't respond.
The boy doesn't press, only tilting his head. "I'd ask where you're going, but I think I already know."
Ail tightens their grip on their bag. They are not here to make friends.
The boy chuckles, leaning back. "Well, I'll see you in the city then, Star."
Ail doesn't ask his name. They don't need to.
The city glows faintly on the horizon, flickering like a candle just out of reach. Their heart beats in time with the train.
They do not belong to anyone anymore.
But the world is waiting.