The city was already awake, even before the sun had fully risen. Horns blared, engines roared, people moved like rivers with no end. Waza walked among it all, unseen but absorbing every sound, every smell, every movement.
Since leaving his mom, blending in had become second nature. Every corner, every alley told a story—one he had learned to read. Survival, not comfort, was his only guide.
Then, out of nowhere, he remembered her. Girl. Not in the moment, not in front of him—just a flicker of memory, sharp and fleeting. Strange, how the mind keeps hold of things even when reality drifts away.
Curiously, her number was still on his phone. He typed a message, fingers hovering, unsure. The reply came—cold, clipped. Nothing like he expected.
Waza stared at the screen, mind spinning. What have you done? he asked himself silently, a whisper against the noise of the streets. A fleeting thought, a pang of regret, a reminder of time slipping past too fast.
He put the phone away and kept walking. The city moved on. And somewhere, somewhere deep inside, a spark of what was—what could have been—lingered.