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Chapter One: The Man Who Didn't Fear Dying
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5:43 a.m.
The alarm buzzed like it had somewhere better to be.
He didn't move at first. Just blinked up at the water-stained ceiling, breathing in silence. No birds. No music. Just the sound of a kettle starting to hum on the stove.
His name—well, the name people used—was on the mailbox downstairs. Spelled wrong, but he never corrected it.
He got up. Brushed his teeth with mint that burned too much. Stared into a cracked mirror. Microwave beeped. Breakfast: instant noodles and yesterday's rice.
Steam curled into the air like lazy ghosts.
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6:42 a.m.
He walked to the station under a sky that looked as bored as he felt. The same train. Same silence. The city moved around him like water around a stone.
Nobody looked his way. He liked that.
A woman bumped him by accident. "Sorry, didn't see you."
> "Most people don't," he said. Not bitter. Just… honest.
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8:00 a.m.
Work was a box. Literally and figuratively. A cubicle with gray walls and one dead plant that used to belong to someone who quit last year. No one replaced it.
He answered emails. Read reports. Nodded at people he didn't remember the names of. His boss forgot his name, too.
During lunch, someone asked if he'd seen the new superhero movie. He said, "Nah."
Conversation over.
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9:30 a.m.
Outside the office window, clouds drifted by like they had somewhere to be. He stared through them, unfocused.
> "People cry at funerals like they didn't see it coming," he thought.
"Is death really that bad?
No hunger. No noise. Just quiet. Like sleeping, but forever."
He remembered his mother's funeral.
Everyone said he was in shock. But he wasn't.
He'd watched her fade over months. Watched the hospital machines slowly quiet. When she passed, he sat next to her for a while. Then made tea.
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10:00 a.m.
He left the office, carrying a broken printer part to the branch two blocks down. Light drizzle started, but he didn't bother with his hood. The water felt honest.
> "Why make friends?" he thought, stepping over a cracked sidewalk tile.
"Everyone leaves. The closer they are, the more it hurts when they go.
Better not to attach."
He passed a bakery. Cinnamon and warmth spilled out the door.
His mom used to buy pastries there.
He kept walking.
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10:13 a.m.
He stood at the crosswalk. A kid with headphones danced nearby. A woman argued into her phone. The light turned green.
He stepped forward.
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10:14 a.m.
Brakes screeched.
A horn split the air.
The world spun.
Then—
Nothing.
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10:14 a.m. and 1 second
He opened his eyes.
There was no pain. No road. No rain.
Just white. Pure and infinite. A void that felt... patient.
He stood up—though he hadn't realized he was lying down—and looked around.
Silence.
> "So... this is it, huh?"
He exhaled slowly, almost amused.
> "Oh. I'm dead.
Cool, I guess."
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To Be Continued…