The alarm on Jason's smartphone blared at 6.15 in the morning with that annoying tone he'd never bothered changing. Like always, he tapped the screen with his eyes barely open, still cozy in a bed that had seen better days. Morning sunlight filtered through his small studio apartment window in the suburbs of Seattle, casting an orange-golden glow on walls that hadn't been painted in years.
Jason rolled out of bed slowly, accompanied by the inevitable groans of a man who was no longer in his twenties. His back popped like an old bicycle chain. Thirty-two years old felt different now. Back when he was 25, he could jump up instantly ready to tackle the day. Now, five minutes just to get moving felt normal.
He shuffled toward the bathroom with stiff, reluctant steps. The mirror above the sink reflected back something he saw every single day, yet it never failed to trigger the same feeling: sadness mixed with irritation and a touch of shame. A pale face, tired eyes, and the most depressing part of all: a completely bald head.
No hair at all. Completely clean.
Jason stared at his reflection. He rubbed his smooth scalp, which gleamed slightly in the bathroom steam. It had been three years since his hair last fell out. At first, just a few strands while combing. Then more and more disappeared until finally he'd decided to shave it all off rather than look pathetic with sparse patches.
"Morning, Egg Head," he muttered to himself in a tone that tried to be funny but fell flat.
He turned on the bathroom faucet. Water flowed at a moderate pace. The water bill last month had gone up again. Everything in Seattle kept getting more expensive: apartment rent, food, gas, even movie tickets now cost twenty dollars. How was an ordinary office worker supposed to get by?
Jason washed his face with soap. The cold water made his skin feel slightly fresher. He bit his lower lip while glancing at the mirror again.
Somewhere along the way, being bald stopped feeling like a liberating fashion statement. Instead, it became an identity marker he couldn't hide. His head gleamed under the office lights. His head gleamed when he walked through the mall. His head gleamed constantly, every single day, every single moment.
He heard a loud voice from outside the bathroom. That was Budi, his roommate. Budi was already awake and getting ready for college classes. Budi was only 21, still a junior at the nearby university. Budi had thick, dark hair thicker than most people's. Sometimes Jason felt a little jealous.
"Hey, Baldy! Get out of the bathroom! I've got to leave in five minutes!" Budi yelled while pounding on the door roughly.
Jason sighed deeply. This was already part of his morning ritual. Budi was always rushing, always late, always angry. But Jason had gotten used to it. He barely felt hurt by the "Baldy" nickname anymore.
He stepped out of the bathroom wearing a towel around his waist. His wet scalp gleamed, and when Budi saw it, he immediately burst out laughing.
"Dude, your head looks like a searchlight!" Budi joked while rushing past into the bathroom.
Jason just shrugged. He went back to his bedroom and opened his closet. His work clothes were neatly organized: black corporate pants, a standard white shirt, and a dark blue tie. Everything looked as boring as his life.
Jason's office was a place called Metro Insurance, a company in downtown Seattle. His position was just an accounting staff, one of dozens of people sitting at their own desks every day, processing the same tedious financial reports. His monthly salary was thirty-five hundred dollars, enough for rent, food, and a little savings. But never enough to feel happy.
He dressed himself with mechanical movements. Pants, shirt, tie, black leather shoes. Everything according to company dress code. Jason had once tried wearing bolder colors, but his boss, Mr. Peterson, had immediately called him over with a distinctly unfriendly tone. So now, Jason just followed the rules. Safe, boring, but safe.
Before leaving the apartment, Jason caught his reflection in the large mirror on his front door. A man of 32 years old, average height, slightly overweight from lack of exercise, and hair... nonexistent. A smooth, shiny bald head reflecting the apartment light.
He grabbed his brown leather work bag and headed out. It was 7.10 AM. Still had twenty minutes to get to the office, which was about a thirty-minute trip via bus or personal car.
Seattle's streets were already filling with the morning rush. People with clear destinations, with carefully laid plans, with meaningful lives. Jason felt lost among them all. He was just an accounting staff member with a bald head and an unclear future.
He walked toward the nearest bus stop. The morning street was still fairly cool, though the sun's warmth was beginning to be felt. Jason looked at the people around him: a young mother with two small children, a large man talking on his phone, a young girl listening to music with headphones.
Normal lives. Ordinary routines. Nothing special.
As Jason waited for the bus to arrive, he glanced toward a small alley that stretched between two old buildings at the end of the street. The alley was dark, gloomy, full of trash and debris. No one ever went in there. Even homeless people avoided it.
But this time, something was different.
Light.
There was a strange light glowing from deep within that alley. A golden light, glimmering in an unnatural way. This wasn't from a street lamp, not from vehicles, and not from the sun. This light came from deep within the alley, from the darkest corner.
Jason stared at it with intense curiosity. The light pulsed gently, like a breath, like a heartbeat. For some reason, Jason felt something pulling him toward it.
The bus arrived with a harsh screech of brakes, but Jason didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on that strange light.
What was that?