Rishi slouched deeper into the worn-out couch, his eyes lazily scanning the screen of his phone. The glow illuminated his face in the dim apartment, the silence of the room broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. Outside, the usual street noise filtered in—the distant screech of tires, the occasional shout of someone on the sidewalk. Nothing new. Nothing exciting.
He swiped through Instagram for what felt like the hundredth time that day. One post. Another post. Then another. Each more boring than the last. People smiling in front of tourist attractions he'd never go to, photos of food he couldn't taste, political rants that only annoyed him. He didn't care about any of it.
What a waste of time.
Tomorrow was just going to be more of the same, he thought. Another day, another uninspiring routine. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much today—it was like the existential weight of his life was just sinking in deeper, making every little thing feel unbearable. Work? A dead-end job that didn't even pay enough for him to leave his cramped apartment. Friends? They were all just... acquaintances. Nothing truly meaningful. Not even the hobbies that used to spark some kind of joy felt exciting anymore.
He tossed his phone aside, then reached over to grab the remote and flicked on the TV. The news anchor's voice droned on in the background. Something about global warming. Something about economic collapse. Something about the latest viral trend. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
The clock on the wall clicked. Tick. Tick. It was 7:14 PM. He glanced at it idly, noting how the hours seemed to drag by, stretching endlessly in front of him, full of nothing.
A soft, familiar voice broke through the haze of his frustration.
"Rishi!" his mother called from the other room. "Dinner's ready!"
Daniel groaned, resisting the urge to bury his head in his pillow. Every evening was the same. His mom would cook dinner, they'd eat, he'd half-heartedly engage in a conversation, then go back to this—wasting the night away. What was the point of it all?
He dragged himself up from the couch and walked to the small kitchen. His mom was humming softly as she set the table, the scent of her cooking filling the air. "Beef stew," she said, as if it was some kind of miracle.
"Mm, smells good," he muttered, sitting down at the table without much enthusiasm.
She smiled warmly, not noticing the lack of energy in his voice. "I made extra today. You've been looking thin."
"I'm fine, Mom," he said, poking at his plate with a fork. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her care. He just couldn't get excited about it anymore.
They ate in silence for a while, the clinking of cutlery the only sound in the room. Every so often, she'd glance over at him with that worried look, like she could sense he was slipping away from her somehow.
Finally, she asked, "Are you still planning on going to that seminar tomorrow? The one about career counselling?"
Rishi paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth. He hadn't even thought about that seminar since he signed up. His mind had been so wrapped up in how unimportant everything felt. "Yeah. Maybe. I'll go."
She smiled again, but this time, Daniel could see the hint of doubt in her eyes. "You've been saying that for months. It would be good for you, you know."
He pushed the stew around on his plate, lost in thought. Maybe I should do something. Anything. Just… something. But even the idea felt like a far-off dream, something that didn't quite touch him anymore. He'd been stuck in this cycle, doing the same things over and over, hoping for something to change. But nothing ever did. He was just… there.
"Do you want to go out this weekend?" she asked, her voice hopeful. "We could take a drive, get some fresh air, maybe see a movie or something."
Daniel smiled weakly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, sounds good, Mom."
As the conversation drifted off, he finished his dinner in silence. His mind wandered. What was the point of all this? Every plan felt like it was just another way to fill time. It wasn't like anything mattered. Not the seminar. Not the weekend outing. Not even the career he wasn't interested in.
Tomorrow would come, just like today had, and it would be the same.
Tomorrow… he thought absently, staring out the window. He barely noticed how the light outside was dimming, how the sky was turning a darker shade of blue. It was as if the world was shifting in ways he couldn't even process.
He excused himself after dinner, told his mom he'd be in his room. She wished him a good night, and he offered a half-hearted reply.
In his room, he closed the door behind him and flopped onto the bed. His phone buzzed once again, but he didn't bother looking at it. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering why he felt so... restless.
It wasn't like he was actively unhappy. He didn't have any major problems. He just felt... off. Like he was waiting for something, even though he had no idea what that something was.
Tomorrow would be like today. It had to be. He just needed to go through the motions.
As his eyelids began to feel heavy, a strange, flickering sensation washed over him. He shook it off at first—probably just the exhaustion from the day. But as his thoughts began to fade into a haze, something shifted.
It was subtle—like the faintest disturbance in the air, a strange hum that seemed to echo in the back of his mind. But it was enough to make him sit up, blinking and trying to shake the feeling.
He glanced around, but nothing had changed. It was just him, in his room, on the same old bed.
He sighed and lay back down, trying to ignore the weird sensation lingering at the edges of his thoughts. Maybe I am just tired.
Tomorrow. It would be like today. He'd survive. He'd keep going. He had to.
But as he drifted off to sleep, the world around him seemed to shift ever so slightly—unseen, unnoticed.
And the first step into a new life which will fuck him so hard that he will miss his boring ex-life was already unfolding, without him even realizing it.