Rain tapping the balcony, each drop trembling as it hit the cold metal railing. Below, the city kept moving: horns, footsteps, neon signs, and puddles reflecting lights. Through his tears those lights blurred into a single, accusing line.
A boy stood, eyes red and wet. He felt small, like the world's weight rested on his palms.
"I want to kill each one of them," he shouted, the words cutting through the rain.
"But I'm so weak… a boy like me should die."
He stepped nearer to the edge.
Tears mixed with rain. In his mind his mother's smile appeared,warm and patient, her hands smelling of rice and summer. It steadied him.
"No. I shouldn't die. I must live — not for me, but for her." He smiled with tears in his eyes
The floor was slick. His shoe caught on the frayed mat.
For one slow moment, everything paused.
His foot slipped.
"Ahhh… am I… going to die?" His voice cracked, thin as thread. The world tipped. Cold spread through him as he fell, the air roaring past like a rushing river.
Impact. Pain exploded sharp and bright. Blood darkened the pavement. His body refused to move. Sounds faded into muffled echoes.
Through the blur of rain, he saw her, a girl, standing not far away. She watched him, then raised her hands in a strange, urgent wave, like a signal thrown into the storm.
"Who is she? Am I… going to die?" His thoughts scattered as his eyes grew heavy. Darkness pulled him under.
He jolted awake in bed. Sheets twisted around him, chest heaving, skin damp. For a moment he only stared at the ceiling, heart pounding as if still falling.
He touched his side where the pain had been only skin, only his own breath. But the memory of the balcony clung like wet clothes.
"The rain… the blood… that girl…" he whispered, trying to steady his breathing.
He lay there, trembling, unsure if it had been dream or reality. Yet the ache inside him and the image of her waving felt too sharp to be imagined.