The city of Glora was waking fully now, lights reflecting off damp streets, engines humming, the smell of exhaust and fried food mixing with morning mist. I stepped down from the rooftop carefully, barefoot on the rough concrete, feeling every groove and crack beneath my feet. The streets felt familiar, yet… slightly off.I walked past a corner café, the bell over the door jingling as people came and went. A vendor selling newspapers shot me a nod recognition, not warmth. Waza, they thought. The name clung like a shadow, but I barely acknowledged it. Today, I didn't want the weight of old reputations.Reality hit harder than usual. Mom's kitchen would be waiting, the small apartment smelling of tea and cleaning soap, and the quiet hum of everyday life that reminded me why I stayed alive and alone.As I passed an alley, something flickered at the corner of my vision. A shadow that didn't belong. I paused, breath caught, heart steady but alert. The city moved on around me, oblivious. When I looked again, there was nothing. Just walls, damp concrete, and the faint buzz of a neon sign.I shook my head and kept walking. Glora had taught me that your mind could play tricks when you were too alone. Maybe that was all it was a trick, a fleeting reflection, nothing more.At the apartment, Mom was already waiting. Her eyes met mine with a quiet understanding she didn't need to speak. "You're here," her expression said. That was enough.I settled at the table with my notebook, pen poised, staring at the blank page. Thoughts drifted rooftops, streets, the shadow, the hum beneath my skin that I couldn't quite name. Everything felt heavier than usual. The city pulsed beneath me, alive and indifferent, reminding me that life didn't pause for loneliness.I wrote a few lines not for anyone else, not even for clarity. Just to keep myself tethered to the world that refused to slow down. Reality wasn't kind, wasn't forgiving, and yet it persisted. And so did I.The hum was faint again. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe, it was waiting.
