清晨的芭樂村，霧還沒散。 Koala 把背包拉好，站在村口那座舊舊的入口牌前。 牌子上只刻了一行字，像是給外地人的提醒—— 「歡迎來到 Guava Village。」 Koala沒有立刻往前走，而是轉身，看向你。 「在進村之前，」 Koala笑了一下，語氣像是在說一件很日常的事， 「我得先讓你知道，我們這裡不是只有一個村莊。」 Koala 指了指腳下的地面。 石板路的紋路慢慢浮出來，像一張被時間磨得發亮的地圖。
🍃 水果環狀線 Fruit Circle Line 「我們有十個水果里，」 「它們被一條環狀線串在一起。」 Koala沒有解釋每一站在做什麼， 只是一站一站地念，像在確認方向。 Banana Station｜香蕉站 Apple Station｜蘋果站 Guava Station｜芭樂站 Strawberry Station｜草莓站 Pineapple Station｜鳳梨站 Mango Station｜芒果站 Orange Station｜橘子站 Tomato Station｜蕃茄站 Peach Station｜水蜜桃站 Wax Apple Station｜蓮霧站 當你注意到，Koala念到「Guava Station」的時候，語氣特別輕。
「芭樂站，」 Koala 說， 「是我住的地方。」
遠方傳來一個低低的聲音。 不是火車鳴笛，比較像是在提醒——它來了。 月台沒有廣播，沒有時刻表。 只有一輛黃色的捷運靜靜停著，車門還沒打開。 「這就是我們的捷運，」 Koala 把手插進口袋， 「它不趕時間。」 你還來不及問，它會先去哪一站， Koala 已經轉身往車門走去。 「別急，」 他回頭說了一句， 「今天，我們只是先讓你知道——」 車門緩緩打開。 「這裡，有路可以走。」 霧重新合上。 捷運燈亮起，又慢慢暗下來。
霧重新合上。 捷運燈亮起，又慢慢暗下來。 下一站是什麼？ 他沒有說。 你只知道， 故事，已經開始了。
Early morning in Guava Village, the fog hasn’t lifted yet. Koala tightens his backpack straps and stands in front of the old entrance sign at the edge of the village. The sign bears only one line, like a reminder meant for outsiders— “Welcome to Guava Village.” Koala doesn’t move forward right away. Instead, he turns around and looks at you. “Before we go in,” Koala smiles, his tone casual, as if talking about something ordinary, “there’s something you should know.” He points to the ground beneath his feet. The patterns of the stone-paved road slowly surface, like a map polished smooth by time. 🍃 Fruit Circle Line “We have ten fruit districts,” he says. “They’re all connected by a circular line.” Koala doesn’t explain what each stop is for. He simply reads them out one by one, as if checking directions. Banana Station Apple Station Guava Station Strawberry Station Pineapple Station Mango Station Orange Station Tomato Station Peach Station Wax Apple Station You notice that when Koala says “Guava Station,” his voice softens. “Guava Station,” he says, “that’s where I live.” A low sound comes from somewhere in the distance. Not a train horn— more like a quiet reminder. It’s coming. There are no announcements on the platform. No timetable. Only a yellow metro train, standing silently, its doors still closed. “This is our metro,” Koala says, slipping his hands into his pockets. “It’s not in a hurry.” Before you can ask which station it’s heading to first, Koala has already turned toward the doors. “Don’t rush,” he says over his shoulder. “Today, I just want you to know—” The doors slowly slide open. “There are paths here, that you can take.” The fog closes in again. The lights of the metro glow, then slowly fade. The fog closes in again. The lights glow, then dim. What’s the next station? He doesn’t say. You only know this— The story has already begun.
