The city smelled of rain and asphalt. Daniel walked beside Aria, her hand brushing his occasionally, but neither of them seemed to notice. It was an ordinary afternoon, one of those days that could stretch forever without leaving any mark. The shops were open, the hum of traffic moved steadily, and pedestrians jostled past each other with a kind of routine focus that made the city feel alive and yet completely predictable.
Aria glanced at him. "You have been quiet," she said, her voice gentle but tinged with curiosity.
"I am just thinking," Daniel replied, though he was not thinking about anything in particular. He watched the way her hair caught the sunlight, the slight crease of concern on her forehead as she checked her phone. Something had been different between them lately, a distance he could not name, and it pressed in quietly, making the air heavier around him.
"You are thinking too much," she said, smiling lightly. "Come on, stop staring at me like that. It is a little creepy."
He forced a laugh. "I am not staring."
As they walked, Daniel noticed the people ahead of them slowing down. Fingers pointed upward, eyes squinting. A murmur rippled through the crowd, a soundless wave of tension that made his stomach tighten. He followed their gaze and froze.
The sky.
It was no ordinary sky. A green shimmer stretched across the horizon, unnatural and vivid, like an aurora in daylight. The color pulsed slightly, almost breathing, and it was as if the sunlight itself had been filtered through some strange, otherworldly lens.
"Daniel, what is it?" Aria asked, tugging on his sleeve. "What are you looking at?"
"The sky," he said, pointing. His voice wavered, tighter than he intended. "It… it is green. That is not normal."
She tilted her head and laughed nervously. "Green? You are joking, right? Clouds do weird things sometimes. Stop overthinking it."
Daniel's stomach churned. He knew she was wrong. The light was unnatural. It moved across the buildings, rippling, bending slightly, and it seemed to press down on everything below. People on the street were staring, phones held up, but many screens flickered or went black for a moment before coming back to life. Birds above fell silent. Not a single chirp, no fluttering of wings. The city felt frozen in a subtle, impossible tension.
"Daniel, are you okay?" Aria asked, her hand brushing his arm. Her voice carried worry. "You look… pale."
"I am fine," he said, but the words felt hollow even to him. He swallowed hard. The air pressed against his skin, warm but without flame, a heat that crawled beneath his clothes and made his muscles tense. Light flowed through him but brought no brightness, only a sense of wrongness that clung to his chest.
Something in him knew, with a certainty that terrified him, that the moment he was standing in now was the center of it all. The city could vanish, the sky could fall, and it would start here, with him, in this place.
"Daniel?" Aria's voice shook slightly. "You are scaring me. Tell me what is happening."
He wanted to tell her. Wanted to scream and warn her. But the words would not come. He could only shake his head. His eyes were fixed on the sky as the green light intensified. Buildings seemed to shimmer at the edges. Shadows stretched and warped. Cars slowed mid-motion, tires squealing as though time itself hesitated. Pedestrians froze, caught mid-step, their mouths opening as if to speak but uttering nothing.
He could feel the weight of the city, of every person, every object, pressing toward him. He could feel it in his bones, in his lungs, in the pulse of his heartbeat. Pressure without touch, heat without fire, light without brightness. The world itself had become unstable.
"Daniel!" Aria shouted, tugging at his arm. "Come with me! Please!"
He wanted to obey, to move, but it felt impossible. His feet were heavy, rooted to the street as though some invisible gravity held him there. Panic rose, curling in his stomach and making his throat dry. His heart hammered so violently he thought it might explode before the sky did.
The green light rippled faster now, covering rooftops, street signs, and cars. He could see it wash across faces, making them ghostly and distorted. The city's hum warped into a low, vibrating note that pressed into his ears. The air seemed to thicken, clinging to his skin, squeezing his chest.
"Daniel!" Aria tried again, reaching for him. Her fingers brushed his hand, but it felt like touching smoke.
The light intensified further, and with it came a sensation he could not name. It was as if everything he had known, everything solid, was unraveling. Streets twisted inward. Buildings bent unnaturally. Cars were lifted slightly off the ground. The world was folding over itself, like pages of a book turning in a storm.
He tried to scream, to pull Aria away, but no sound came. His voice failed. His body felt unreal. And then the heat, the pressure, the light—all consumed him completely.
Daniel felt himself pressed down, stretched, torn, and lifted at the same time. The sensation was total, complete, overwhelming. The sky roared in silence. Time no longer flowed. And in that instant, the world ended.
Everything—streets, cars, buildings, people—was gone.
There was nothing.
No sound, no air, no light. Only the memory of existence, as if the universe had paused to exhale and then vanished. Daniel's mind reached for something to hold onto. His eyes tried to focus, but there was nothing. Every instinct told him to move, to run, to scream—but there was no body. No voice. Only the end.
And then it was complete.
The green sky, the heat, the collapse, the silence, the impossibility of survival—it all existed, and yet none of it could be explained. Daniel knew it. Every nerve in his body, every thought in his mind, confirmed that it had happened. That he had been there, at that precise spot, at that precise moment, as the world itself tore apart.
No one else would know. No one could. And he understood that the moment he had lived, the moment that defined the end of everything, had nothing to do with chance. It was centered on him. He was the eye of a storm that no one else could see.
The city, the people, the life he had known—gone.
And Daniel could only stand there, helpless, aware, and utterly alone in the collapse.