Who were 'they'? What did 'coming' mean? And what the heck was a 'reality fracture'?
He tried calling the unknown number back. It didn't connect. He tried searching the satellite image online. Nothing. It was a dead end, a breadcrumb trail leading to a brick wall of pure, unadulterated weirdness. He felt a cold knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. His secret, magical world, which had felt like a thrilling superpower, suddenly felt… dangerous.
But then he thought of his mother's words: You cannot control the circus. But you do not have to be the clown. He couldn't control this. He couldn't understand it. So, he decided, with a surge of defiant, almost reckless calm, to ignore it. He shoved the digital ghost into a mental closet, locked the door, and threw away the key. He had a Premier League title to win. He had a life to live. The rest was just noise from another town.
