Rolan pressed the edges of the paper, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. The written message was as confusing as it was terrifying.
The people were fading.
Rolan had to break down the sentence and analyze the meaning of each word just to fathom the message. The people he saw, met, and interacted with could most likely be fakes, puppets, or clones.
Out of the whole sentence, the words "we're fading away" squeezed his chest like a lime; the words fuzzed in and out, the gravity pressing down on Rolan where he stood. Worst of all, he could neither react nor show emotion, as the strong feeling of being watched grew increasingly present.
Rolan laughed hysterically. "What a joke."
He tore the paper into tiny shreds and tossed it into the waste bin at the corner of the street. Without a second glance, he tucked his hand away and brushed off the message—or so it seemed.
