Through rain-streaked glass and the hum of the city's streets, a bus driver keeps his eyes on the road—and on the people who step aboard. Each passenger brings their own silence, their own shadows, and the stillness between them hides more than casual glances. In the mirror above the driver's seat, reflections do not always match reality. Faces change. Movements occur that no one makes. And some figures only exist in the glass.

The route winds through bridges, empty walkways, and the damp corners of an industrial quarter where the air is thick with mist. Familiar faces return day after day: a young woman with a white scarf, a man in grey, a stranger in a brimmed hat. None speak of what they see—or what they sense watching them.

What begins as a routine commute slowly shifts into something unshakable. The driver is drawn deeper into the quiet connections between his passengers, finding patterns he cannot explain and presences that refuse to fade. As the days blur together, the bus becomes less a means of travel and more a stage for something unseen, where every glance, every pause, and every shadow hints at a truth waiting to be revealed.