The sunlight slipped through the window and hit Noah's eyes.
The alarm clock tore the silence apart — beep, beep, beep, beep…
He reached out and turned it off. His eyes half-open, he muttered,
"I just want to sleep… I'm so tired of this."
He looked around.
Leftover food on the desk, plastic containers scattered on the floor, half-empty noodle cups — a month's worth of quiet decay.
A faint smile crossed his lips.
"I'm not alone. My roommate's the trash. Disgusting."
The sunlight pressed harder on his face.
"A bright day, huh," he said sarcastically, pressing the pillow against his head. "Let's sleep."
But he couldn't.
He tossed the pillow aside and stared at the ceiling.
"If I'm late again… that woman's gonna scold me."
Noah got up. In the bathroom, cold water slapped his face awake — but the tiredness inside refused to move.
He stared into the mirror. His hair messy, eyes swollen.
"What did you dream of, Noah? What did you even reach?" he whispered.
The reflection said nothing.
"Yeah… of course. This mess — this is what my dreams became."
He walked into the kitchen.
Half-open bread, frozen pasta, empty cups.
He opened the fridge — nothing but cold air and disappointment.
"Perfect. Another breakfastless day," he sighed.
He dressed quickly, kicked his shoes into place, and pulled the door open.
The sun was already high. Its warmth brought no comfort, only exhaustion.
On the way to work, school kids ran past him, their bags bouncing behind them.
Adults in suits hurried forward, their faces locked in purpose.
Noah watched them — envy flickered in his tired eyes.
"I might not wear a suit, but hey… I'm an important supermarket employee," he thought.
"Guess every cashier tells themselves that."
His heartbeat slowed.
"These noodles… these same days… I'm tired."
In the metro, silence filled the cabin. He sat by the window.
A few students entered — books in hand, faces full of dreams.
Noah's gaze caught them for a moment. Something stirred inside — warm, bitter, almost regret.
He looked away.
At the next stop, an old woman stepped in.
She looked around, searching for a seat, saying nothing.
Noah stood up.
"You can sit here," he said.
She smiled at him.
"Thank you, dear. May your soul stay kind."
The train filled again.
Students laughed.
A girl adjusted her hair — her school uniform catching everyone's eyes.
Noah stood by the door, silent.
He felt nothing.
Or maybe too much — a delayed ache, a weight that came with being late to something invisible.
The train was quiet.
Only the rhythm of the tracks whispered — tak, tak, tak…
Then, behind him, a voice.
Soft, familiar.
"Noah…"
He froze.
Forgot to breathe.
His eyes widened, his lips trembled.
"No way… it can't be…"