The 11:58

The 11:58 a ghost story with a timetable The last train out of Cheonpo station left at 11:58, and for as long as Min had been its conductor, it carried the same kinds of passengers: shift workers asleep against windows, students with headphones, one drunk businessman per carriage, distributed as if by regulation. And, on the third of December only, the old woman on platform two. She never boarded. She stood at the far end under the broken lamp, hands folded, dressed for weather colder than the weather, watching the train pull in and pull out. The first year, Min assumed she'd missed it. The second year, he held the doors an extra minute. She smiled at him — a small, apologetic smile — and did not move. The third year, he stepped off. "Ma'am,

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