Prologue
John used to believe the world was kind.
As a boy, he thought fairness was the rule, not the exception. He believed people helped each other simply because it was right. That goodness was natural. That justice was inevitable.
Then he graduated.
Bills came. Promises broke. Friends disappeared. He watched his parents struggle to keep the lights on, saw coworkers backstab for promotions, and learned that truth didn't always win—especially when money spoke louder.
He tried to hold on. Tried to believe that maybe it was just a phase. But the more he saw—corruption in politics, cruelty in the streets, wars fought for profit—the more his hope unraveled.
John didn't become bitter. He became quiet.
He stopped expecting kindness. Stopped believing that one person could make a difference. He lived, worked, paid taxes, and kept his head down. And when war came—not the kind with flags and heroes, but the kind where neighbors turned on each other for ideology and pride—he didn't expect to be caught in it.
But he was.
He died in a conflict he didn't start, between people who all thought they were right. No last words. No grand farewell. Just another casualty in a world too busy fighting to notice.
In the end, John felt like a grain of sand in a stormy sea—small, swept away, and forgotten.