Tezos

Someone´s Waiting

Creator

tz1Y7YdLiQgaKf5uuxGfBv8B45zLUHCxw2Pz

Description

Rain had been falling all evening—thin at first, like a whisper across the city, and then heavier, until the streets gleamed like black mirrors. In the underground stairwell, the fluorescent lights hummed softly, their pale glow reflecting off the wet steps. A small figure paused halfway down. The rabbit adjusted the hood of his coat and rested a paw on the cold metal railing. Water dripped slowly from the hem of the fabric. He had walked a long way tonight. He always did. The station smelled faintly of rust and rain. Somewhere deeper below, a train rumbled like distant thunder, fading into silence again. It was late—too late for most travelers—but that was why he preferred this hour. Fewer eyes. Fewer questions. He continued down the stairs carefully, each step echoing in the empty corridor. At the bottom, the platform stretched into fog and dim light. A single bench sat beneath a flickering sign. The rabbit walked toward it, then stopped a few feet away. Someone had been there earlier. He could tell. A faint warmth still lingered in the wood. A coffee cup rested beside the bench, half full and forgotten. The rabbit stared at it for a long moment. They must have waited. Maybe for minutes. Maybe for hours. He sat down slowly. Across the tracks, a tunnel yawned open like a dark mouth. The rabbit watched it, ears tilted forward, listening for the distant promise of another train—or footsteps. Time passed in the quiet rhythm of dripping water. He remembered the message. Meet me here. Midnight. Same place as always. The handwriting had been hurried, uneven, like whoever wrote it hadn’t been sure they would make it in time. Midnight had already come and gone. The rabbit folded his paws together, staring at the floor where rainwater pooled between the tiles. A soft sigh escaped him, barely louder than the buzzing light overhead. Maybe they had just missed each other. Maybe they had taken the wrong train. Or maybe—he thought quietly—they were still on their way. So he stayed. Because sometimes the hardest thing in the world isn’t leaving. It’s believing that somewhere, in the quiet tunnels of a sleeping city, someone is still trying to reach you. And until the last train came and the lights went out, the rabbit waited—ears raised toward the darkness— just in case. Because someone, somewhere, was waiting too.

Traits