Harry Potter

Late at 1 o’clock on a cold, frosty night, the gust of wind, bearing melancholic whispers of the deserted train station, faded into silence, as it heard a lady humming some abstruse melody. Perched upon a bench near the platform with her fancy luggage nestled between her legs, she immersed herself in music flowing through her headphones. Clad in a pristine white sweater, adorned with an ebony thread that wove her name into its fabric, it proudly proclaimed, “Kashvi.” Time stretched languidly as she awaited her train, scheduled to arrive at 3 am. Immersed in music and captivated by the pages of her mobile library, she sought solace.