Rain fell like the city was trying to erase itself.

  Neon lights bled into the streets below, smeared and broken by puddles that quivered with every distant rumble of thunder. Glass and steel towers stretched endlessly upward, clawing at the storm-dark sky—monuments to progress, ambition, and futures that belonged to someone else.

  The wind grew stronger the higher it rose.

  At the edge of one such tower, a lone figure stood in the rain.

  A man, soaked to the bone, coat heavy against his frame. His hair clung to pale skin, plastered down by water and wind alike. Against the vast sprawl of the city, he looked impossibly small—like a detail already forgotten.

  twenty-two years old.

  The number surfaced uninvited, hollow and meaningless.

  No dreams left.

  No place to return to.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  No future waiting.

  From a distance, he might have looked like someone who simply couldn’t keep up—another casualty of a world that never slowed down. But the truth sat much deeper than failure.

  I wasn’t trying to disappear…

  The wind tugged at his clothes, insistent, impatient.

  I just wanted the pain to stop being the only thing true to me.

  His eyes were dull, rimmed with exhaustion that sleep had long since abandoned. Every breath felt borrowed. Every heartbeat felt like an obligation he had never agreed to fulfill.

  Thunder split the sky open.

  He stepped forward.

  No one screamed.

  No one looked up.

  The city continued to breathe—unaware, indifferent.

  Now… finally… I can rest.

  Rain slid down his face, indistinguishable from tears he no longer bothered to wipe away.

  Goodbye, everyone.

  His lips moved, but no sound escaped.

  Now… no one has to see me anymore.

  And then—

  He jumped.

  The city fell away.

  The wind swallowed him.

  The night closed in.