The night had deepened, wrapping the streets in a cool, inky hush.
Elijah wandered aimlessly with a book tucked under one arm, his other hand buried in his coat pocket.
He had just left the library, and his phone — predictably — had died hours ago. It was another casualty of his own forgetfulness.
The wind played in his hair as he walked, teasing loose strands into his face.
"Change your glasses to this. Right now, or I swear I'm breaking the ones you have."
Chase had threatened him, and now his gold frame had transformed into a thinner one.
The new silver‑rimmed glasses shielded his eyes from the unruly sweep of his hair as the wind turned sharp and cold.
In the dark hours, everyone was rushing to reach their homes.
Cars and motorbikes hurried in streaks of light, much like how life was blurring past him.
At times, his heart bubbled with a rare glee, and he would laugh at one of Chase's idiotic jokes.
