<lora:lora-DuoTone, Bleaked White_trained:1>DuoTone, Bleaked White, an abandoned train station frozen in stillness, bathed in pale white artificial light. A man stands at the edge of the platform, motionless, his breath visible in the stagnant air. Everything about him is ordinary—except for one thing.His shadow is missing.Across the platform, his shadow stands alone, separated from its owner, staring back with hollow, empty sockets where its eyes should be. But something is wrong. The shadow is not normal—it is stretched impossibly long, extending across the entire length of the platform like a stain that reality forgot to clean up. Its elongated fingers reach toward the rails, clawing into the concrete like something trying to pull itself free.A distant rumbling. The train arrives.The doors slide open—but inside, there are no seats, no passengers—only mirrors. An endless loop of reflections stretches into infinity, distorting at the edges where reality bends. The train seems to breathe, waiting.The shadow moves first.It steps forward, and as it does, it grows longer—sliding, stretching, unraveling like spilled ink over the platform, until it touches the train itself. The train accepts it. The shadow steps inside, dissolving into the mirrored infinity.The man does not move.The doors close. The train departs. The station is silent again.Then—he looks down.A new shadow is forming at his feet. But it is not the same. It is longer. Too long. It stretches out ahead of him, reaching the edge of the platform, eager for the next train to arrive.A cinematic, surreal nightmare of elongated shadows and distorted physics, stark lighting emphasizing the impossible length, an eerie stillness filling the space between presence and absence.
