Chapter 2
The alarm jolted him awake, its shrill tone slicing through the quiet room. Groggy and disoriented, he fumbled for the off button, silencing the noise with a slap. For a moment, he lay there, staring at the cracked ceiling above him. Wires snaked through the holes, exposed and frayed, a constant reminder of the landlord's neglect. "Another complaint," he thought, his mind already wandering. "How hard is it to fix a damn ceiling?"
Dragging himself out of bed, he moved slowly, like a marionette with tangled strings. The studio apartment was cramped, but functional. Just enough space for him to exist without much care. A kitchenette near the entrance, a tiny bathroom to the right, and the main area doubling as his bedroom. The one redeeming feature was the view. From his bed, he could see the sprawling city below, alive with movement and noise. Most nights, he'd sit there, watching the endless stream of cars and people, finding an odd sense of peace in the chaos.
He had grown up in a small, quiet town where life moved at a slower pace. Everything was within walking distance the grocery store, the school, even the police station. Cars were rare, and the streets were almost always empty. Moving to the city had been a shock. The noise, the crowds, the labyrinth of streets. It was overwhelming. But he had adapted, or at least convinced himself that he had.
His commute to work was uneventful, as usual. Today, however, a woman with a small white puppy sat beside him. The dog's fur was so immaculate, it almost glowed under the fluorescent lights of the bus. Curiosity got the better of him, and he turned to her.
"Isn't it hard to keep his fur so white?" he asked.
The woman smiled, her eyes lighting up. "It's so hard," she admitted. "I give him a bath sometimes four times a day."
The dog tilted its head, as if it understood the conversation. He stared at it, his face expressionless. "I would've skinned him alive if it were me," he said, his tone casually chilling. "I hate dogs. They're irritating."
The woman's smile faltered. Her face drained of color as the dog, sensing her discomfort, began barking loudly, disrupting the quiet hum of the bus. Unfazed, he stood up. "Ah, this is my stop. Have a nice day," he said, stepping off the bus. Behind him, the woman stared, mouth agape, while the dog continued to bark.
He smiled to himself as he walked to work, replaying the encounter in his mind. A small victory, but one that brightened his morning. The shop was just a few minutes from the bus stop, and he arrived right on time.
The day passed in a blur of monotony, interrupted only by the occasional customer. Around 1:30 p.m., his phone rang, cutting through the quiet of the shop. He answered without hesitation.
"Speaking," he said, his voice flat.
"I'll be there at 3," the voice on the other end replied. He glanced at his watch. His shift ended at 2, leaving him an hour to kill before the appointment.
"No problem. I'm always free," he said before hanging up. He turned his attention back to an annoyed customer waiting to check out, his face impassive.
At 2 p.m., his shift ended, and with his appointment canceled, he decided to head to the park. It was a habit he'd picked up recently, though he couldn't quite explain why. The park was always busy filled with laughter and life and today was no different. Children ran around, their voices high and bright, while families picnicked on the grass. Joggers and cyclists weaved through the paths, faces flushed with exertion. The air hummed with the sounds of happiness, a sharp contrast to the quiet of his apartment.
He found a bench and sat down, observing the scene. People were happy today, genuinely happy. It felt foreign, unsettling. "Must be nice," he thought, his expression unreadable.
A small ball rolled to his feet, pulling him from his thoughts. He picked it up and looked around, spotting four kids staring at him expectantly. He stood and walked over, handing the ball to the nearest child. The boy grinned, and he patted the kid on the head, a brief, almost imperceptible flicker of warmth passing through him. But just as quickly, it was gone, as if it never existed.
He stepped back, watching as the kids resumed their game. The world around him began to blur, the colors and sounds melding together in a dizzying swirl. His vision wavered, and before he could steady himself, his legs gave way beneath him. The last thing he saw was the concerned faces of strangers rushing toward him, then everything faded to black.