There is a moment—thin as a blade's edge—between life and death.
Most people pass through it without knowing it exists.
Kaiden Morales didn't.
The night air bit into his lungs as he pedaled harder, shoes scraping against rusted metal. Streetlights stretched into long, trembling reflections across the rain-slick road, each one warping as his bicycle rattled forward. His backpack thudded against his spine, heavier than it should have been—stuffed with unfinished homework, loose pencils, and a sketchbook he never let anyone open.
He was late.
Again.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Kaiden ignored it. Whatever message waited there could stay unread a little longer. It was easier to keep moving. Easier than thinking about how his life always felt slightly out of sync, like he'd missed an important cue everyone else had heard.
Kaiden was seventeen and already exhausted.
Not physically—his body could handle long rides and sleepless nights. It was the quieter exhaustion that wore him down. The kind that came from being forgettable. From existing just far enough in the background that no one ever asked him to step forward.
He didn't hate his life.
He just felt like it belonged to someone else.
Rain began without warning, heavy drops striking the pavement hard enough to sting. Cars rushed past him, tires hissing, headlights flaring white in his vision. Kaiden slowed instinctively, gripping the handlebars tighter as his wheels slid for half a second too long.
Almost home, he told himself. Just a little farther.
The horn shattered the night.
It was close. Too close.
Time fractured—not slowed, but broken into jagged pieces. Kaiden saw the truck's headlights swing toward him. Saw the driver's face, pale and panicked. Felt the bicycle jerk violently beneath him as metal screamed.
Then he was airborne.
Weightless.
The world spun, and the ground rushed up to meet him.
Pain exploded through his body—sharp, blinding, all-consuming—and then vanished as if someone had flipped a switch. Kaiden hit the pavement hard, breath torn from his chest, rain soaking into his clothes instantly.
Shouts echoed nearby. Footsteps splashed through puddles. A car door slammed.
Kaiden stared up at the sky.
It was darker than he'd imagined it would be.
So this is it, he thought calmly. This is how I disappear.
His fingers twitched weakly.
Memories surfaced—not grand or dramatic. Just small things. The smell of graphite on his hands. The comfort of drawing faces he'd never meet. The quiet, persistent wish that one day, someone would look at him and actually see him.
"I wasn't done," he whispered.
The rain softened. The sounds faded.
The world exhaled.
And Kaiden Morales slipped into the space between breaths.