The afternoon sun beat down on the cracked pavement, baking the city in a suffocating layer of humidity and exhaust fumes. Ethan wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, shifting the weight of his worn-out backpack.
He was just a regular twenty-year-old guy, living a painfully regular life.
As he walked the familiar, dusty route from his local government college back to his small apartment, he pulled out his smartphone with his free hand. The screen was cracked in the corner—a fitting metaphor for his current state of affairs. Opening Facebook, he began mindlessly scrolling through his feed.
Click. Scroll. Sigh.
His thumb paused over a newly uploaded photo. It was his best friend from high school, Mark. Mark was sitting at a chic, sunlit outdoor cafe in another state, holding an iced latte in one hand and wrapping his other arm around a stunningly pretty girl who was laughing at the camera. The caption read:
"Acing midterms at State Uni and celebrating with the best! #CollegeLife #Blessed"
Ethan stared at the picture for a long moment. He didn't feel malicious jealousy, just a hollow, sinking feeling in his chest. "How wonderful is that?" he muttered to himself, a wry, self-deprecating smile forming on his lips.
"Studying at a reputed college, exploring a new city, having a beautiful partner to enjoy life with... Must be nice playing life on easy mode."
He locked his phone and shoved it into his pocket, his gaze dropping to his scuffed sneakers.
Ethan had always been the epitome of 'average.' He wasn't particularly handsome, nor was he ugly. He wasn't a troublemaker, but he was far from a genius. He was the kind of guy who faded into the background of a group photo.
When high school ended, reality hit him like a freight train. While his friends got accepted into top-tier universities across the country, Ethan's unremarkable grades left him with rejection letters.
His parents, bless their hearts, had tried to hide their disappointment, but he saw it. Especially when compared to his older brother, Arthur.
Arthur was the golden child—a straight-A student who had graduated from a prestigious ivy-league college and immediately landed a high-paying job at a multinational tech company. Arthur drove a sleek sedan and wore tailored suits. Ethan rode the bus and wore faded band t-shirts.
Unable to afford the exorbitant fees of private institutions for a mediocre student, his parents had gently suggested he enroll in the local government college for a normal degree. The fees were practically nothing, but so were the prospects.
"Just get the degree, Ethan," his father had patted his shoulder months ago. "You'll figure something out."
"Yeah. Figure something out," Ethan echoed his father's words aloud, kicking a pebble across the sidewalk. "Step one: Graduate. Step two: Become a highly qualified barista."
He chuckled at his own miserable joke. But honestly, he had accepted his fate. He was the NPC in someone else's grand RPG. He didn't mind the quiet life; he just wished he had accomplished something to make his parents proud. Just one thing.
Ethan approached a busy four-way intersection. The traffic light was currently glowing a bright, vibrant green for the cars. The pedestrian signal glared a solid, unblinking red hand.
While waiting by the metal guardrail, Ethan's eyes drifted to a young woman standing a few feet away. She was dressed in sharp corporate clothes, but she was completely engrossed in an animated argument on her phone. Judging by the harsh whispers and exasperated hand gestures, she was fighting with her husband.
Beside her, completely ignored, was a little girl no older than five. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress and clutching the string of a shiny red helium balloon.
"I told you I couldn't make it to dinner!" the woman hissed into the phone, turning her back to the street to shield the microphone from the wind. "No, you never listen to me—"
In that split second of distraction, a sudden gust of wind swept through the intersection. The string of the red balloon slipped right through the little girl's tiny, chubby fingers.
"My balloon!" the little girl squeaked.
Without a single glance at the glaring red pedestrian light, the little girl stepped off the curb and darted onto the asphalt, her eyes locked onto the floating red orb.
The road was relatively empty for a midday Tuesday, but the silence was suddenly shattered by the ferocious, guttural roar of a heavy diesel engine.
Ethan's head snapped to the left.
A massive, fully loaded cargo truck was barreling down the avenue. The driver had green lights all the way down and was comfortably cruising at fifty miles per hour. When the little yellow dress appeared in the middle of his lane, the driver slammed on the air brakes.
SCREEEEEEEEECH!
The horrific sound of locking tires dragging against asphalt echoed like a bomb going off. Smoke poured from the truck's wheels, but the momentum of tons of steel could not be stopped instantly. It was sliding forward, practically floating on the burning rubber, heading straight for the frozen, terrified little girl.
The woman on the phone finally turned around. She dropped her phone, a blood-curdling scream tearing from her throat. "MIA!"
Everything around Ethan slowed down. The world turned into a viscous, muted blur. He didn't think about his average life. He didn't think about his brother's success, his failing grades, or his lack of a girlfriend. He didn't even make a conscious decision. His body moved entirely on instinct.
Ethan vaulted over the metal pedestrian rail with a burst of athletic adrenaline he didn't know he possessed. His feet hit the asphalt, and he lunged.
It was a matter of milliseconds. The grill of the truck was a towering wall of death filling his vision.