He didn’t look at the list. He scrolled to the bottom of the song menu, past the hits, past the nostalgia. He selected a track he’d never seen anyone choose. A B-side by a long-forgotten band from the 1990s. A song called “Rozsda” – Rust.
Itt állok a sínek között. Nincs vonat, nincs menetrend. Csak a rozsda, ami összetart. (Here I stand between the tracks. No train, no schedule. Only the rust, that holds it all together.) Ultrastar Magyar Dalok
Outside, the rain stopped. In the silence, the only sound was the faint, fading hum of the space heater, holding the room together like a thin coat of rust. He didn’t look at the list