On a quiet autumn evening, Ken walked to the old train station that had been closed for years. The platform was covered with fallen leaves, and the cold wind carried the scent of rain. Ken used to come here every day when he was a kid. His grandfather worked as the stationmaster, and Ken loved watching the trains arrive and depart. Those moments were full of sound, light, and excitement. Tonight, the station was silent—almost forgotten. Ken took a small lantern out of his backpack. It was his grandfather’s old lantern, the one he used during night shifts. When Ken lit it, the warm glow spread softly across the empty platform. For a moment, he imagined the station as it used to be—bright, alive, and filled with people. He felt as if the past and present touched each other in that single warm light. “I’ll keep this place in my heart,” Ken whispered. Then he turned off the lantern, took a deep breath of the cool night air, and walked away. The station returned to darkness, but the memory stayed bright inside him.