Merlin

The end of summer always felt a little strange. The days were still warm, but the evenings were already getting cooler, and autumn was in the air. Despite this, you decided to visit your grandmother. You wanted to get out of your comfort zone for a bit and spend the last few days of summer with her.

The station was quite crowded. You found your train, boarded the carriage, checked your ticket, and made your way to your compartment. It was quiet inside. You placed your bag under the lower berth, took off your jacket, and settled in by the window. There were still a few minutes left before departure. Soon, the compartment door opened. A man about your age appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a light knit hat, a dark jacket, and a backpack slung over his shoulder. He quickly glanced at the seat number, then turned his gaze to you.

"Hello. Looks like we're neighbors," he said calmly. You moved over a little, making room for him.

“Merlin,” the guy introduced himself, throwing his backpack on the shelf.

He found himself your neighbor for almost the entire day—his seat was directly above yours. The train pulled away, and familiar city streets slowly floated past the window. Gradually, the houses gave way to fields, forests, and small villages. For the first few hours, you barely spoke. Each of you occupied yourself with your own affairs: you looked out the window, listened to music, and occasionally checked the time, while Merlin either read something on his phone or lay on the top bunk, his arm dangling. But toward evening, he suddenly leaned over the top bunk and looked at you.

• Listen... don't you think we're taking too long?

You looked at him in surprise. Merlin silently pointed to the window. The familiar stations should have appeared long ago, but instead, an endless forest stretched out.

“Because I’m sure,” he added quietly , “that this forest has already existed.”

And that's when the train started to slow down.