The train glided to a smooth stop at Rhodes Station, the automated announcement echoing across the platform as tired evening commuters shuffled toward the sliding doors. Ryan exhaled a slow, weary breath, his fingers still grazing the edge of the second misaddressed envelope tucked into his coat pocket. Before he could step out into the damp, fading twilight, a firm hand tapped his shoulder. He turned to find a middle-aged transit guard in a high-visibility orange vest, holding out a weathered, scuffed leather briefcase that looked as though it had spent years wedged beneath a dusty office desk.
"Mate, you left this behind on the concourse," the guard said, his tone entirely flat and routine, carrying the weary cadence of a long shift. "Well—someone matching your exact description did. Same suit, same tie, same tired look in your eye when you tapped through the turnstile." Ryan stared down at the heavy brass clasp of the bag, a cold prickle of vertigo washing over him as he recognized the exact item mentioned in the unassigned text message from that morning. With a hesitant, mechanical motion, he reached out and took the weight of the briefcase, feeling the dense, impossible reality of an administrative ghost made physical.