The depot on Wronia Street became quiet as dusk fell. Zosia was helping Mr Rojek close the small reading room in the hall. The air smelled of oil, dust and old paper. The girl was sweeping when suddenly a single bell sounded. No tram was standing on the wide tracks at all. Zosia pushed open her desk drawer and found a brass ticket. The number 0 and her name were engraved on the ticket. The metal was warm, as if the ticket breathed in her hand. Mr Rojek closed the grate and extinguished one signal lamp. The other lamp flashed, although no one turned it on. A map of the tracks from the 1930s hung on the wall. The thin line suddenly moved and changed direction. Zosia glanced at the ticket; the numbers trembled like raindrops. She heard the clatter of wheels, distant, like an echo underground. "Do you hear that?" asked Zosia. "It must be the wind," muttered Mr Rojek. Then a sign shone on the gate: Special Course. A tram with the number 0 on the glass emerged from the darkness of the hall. The windows glowed milky and the doors opened without a sound. An inscription appeared on the board: Passenger Zosia Karska. The ticket in her hand warmed up and smelled of thunder. Mr Rojek took a step back, clearly surprised and pale. "I wouldn't get on, Zosia," he whispered, but his voice trembled. A quiet voice came from the loudspeaker: Please take a seat by the window. Zosia took a step forward as something rustled under the floor. The rails glowed blue and indicated a tunnel that wasn't there. Then, from inside the tram, someone whispered her name.