Rain had fallen nonstop since morning
The city was crowded, but no one noticed the thin man, sitting cross-legged by the roadside, his worn-out cap shielding his face.
His eyes were empty. His breaths, heavy.
In his hand—just a nearly stale piece of bread.
That was his only meal today. Maybe his last.
He was just an unemployed man.
Too common to be noticed, too easy to be forgotten.
> "I'm tired… so tired…"
It wasn't like he didn't try.
He had applied for jobs. He wrote resumes.
He once survived on instant noodles for a week just to save up for interview transport.
But it was all in vain. The world never gave him a chance.
In fact, it felt like the world rejected him altogether.
His mother had long passed away.
His father? Gone without a trace.
Relatives?
> "You're just a burden," they said.
Tonight, he slept under a bridge.
His blanket: a used cardboard box.
The muffled music from a nearby pub was his lullaby—a painful one.
As he stared at the black sky, a question echoed in his heart:
> "God... if I didn't exist tomorrow… would anyone even notice?"
No answer.
---
The next day.
He got up slowly, dragging his feet.
Half of yesterday's bread still remained.
He passed through a back alley behind a small grocery store.
The scent of food from a restaurant kitchen stabbed at his starving stomach.
> "There's no point living like this..."
"Even if I die, no one would care."
He kept walking.
The traffic light turned red, but he didn't care.
A loud honk shook the air.
But he didn't flinch.
His feet stepped into the middle of the road.
A bright light.
Screeching brakes.
And—
A crash.
Silence.
---