Doppelganger on the Platform — Train Mirror

An 8-second identity horror short, 16:9: a night train platform, a lone commuter, and their exact double at the far end — copying every movement three seconds late. The hook: the delay is shrinking.
0-2s: Night platform, the camera held by the commuter — handheld, breathing. The platform is nearly empty: a vending machine humming, moths battering the lights, the tracks black beyond the edge. At the far end, under the last lamp, stands a figure: the commuter's exact double. Same coat, same bag, same posture, face shadowed.
2-5s: The commuter raises a hand experimentally. Three seconds later, the double raises its hand. The commuter takes a step left; three seconds later, the double steps left — perfectly mirrored. The commuter starts walking toward it; the double walks too, maintaining the distance, always three seconds behind, coat and bag swaying in perfect delayed sync.
5-8s: The commuter breaks into a run. The double runs. They converge at mid-platform — and the double is already there, waiting, smiling, three seconds ahead now. It reaches out a hand. The train arrives, doors sliding open between them, light spilling across both faces — identical. Cut on the doors.
Craft: the subjects are the commuter and the double — identical coat, bag, posture, one smiling, one not; the platform as the stage — sodium lamps, humming vending machine, moths, black tracks. Camera: handheld first-person, a long platform perspective shot emphasizing the distance, a final push as they converge. Lighting: platform sodium against night, moth-flicker, the train's sudden interior glare. Atmosphere: identity horror — the self, outpaced. Style: handheld, natural sound, no score, 24fps, 8 seconds, 16:9.