The bus ride home was supposed to be uneventful—a quiet end to a long day. Daniel leaned back against the worn seat, feeling a rare moment of contentment wash over him. The familiar streets of the neighborhood started to come into view as the bus turned onto his street. Home was close now.
Just as the bus rolled past the corner store, everything changed.
A deafening crash tore through the air. A drunk driver had blown through a red light, slamming into the bus's side. Metal screeched. Glass shattered, spraying the air like jagged confetti. Alarms blared. Passengers screamed, their bodies flung against seats and windows.
Daniel was hurled sideways with a violent jolt. His foot clipped the edge of the seat's metal base, the sharp pain barely registering amidst the chaos. The whole bus lurched to a halt, the screech of brakes filling the air. Disoriented, his mind spun, trying to make sense of the madness around him.
Just a few blocks away, "Female Daniel" woke with a start. Her heart pounded, a strange buzzing echoing in her chest like the reverberation of a bell. It felt like something had yanked her out of sleep. Her whole body trembled.
What the hell was that?
She bolted up, still groggy, her legs weak beneath her. A heavy unease settled over her, like she knew something had gone wrong—but how? She stumbled out of the attic and grabbed whatever clothes she could find in Daniel's room. The oversized hoodie and sweatpants clung awkwardly to her, but she didn't stop. Shoes, door—out.
The street outside was calm, too calm compared to the pulse of anxiety racing through her veins. I have to find him.
Back at the crash site, Daniel struggled to push himself upright. The bus was a scene of wreckage—seats were overturned, windows shattered, passengers groaning in pain or too shocked to speak. His foot throbbed, but the pain still felt distant, almost numb. He had to help. He shoved aside the ache and worked his way through the wreckage, pulling people to safety.
Just as he was lifting a dazed girl from her seat, a voice cut through the chaos.
"Daniel!"
He looked up. A girl was sprinting toward the scene, her hoodie and sweatpants flapping as she ran. Her hair tumbled into her eyes, making it difficult to see her face clearly, but even from this distance, something about her felt familiar.
She skidded to a stop in front of him, breathing hard. "Are you okay?" she asked, desperation thick in her voice.
Daniel blinked, his breath catching in his throat. She looked familiar, but with her hair obscuring her face, he couldn't quite place her. Then, as she pushed her hair back, clearing it from her eyes, his eyes widened. It was her—the girl from this morning. The one who had appeared out of nowhere.
How did she get here so fast? And why was she dressed in his clothes? His mind raced, questions swirling, but there was no time to process them.
She didn't wait for an explanation. Her gaze swept over the wreckage. Some people were lying down, clearly shaken, while others were still able to stand, leaning on each other for support.
Then, a small voice piped up. A wide-eyed sixth grader, face pale with fear, stood nearby. "Are you his girlfriend?" he asked, glancing between Daniel and the girl.
She froze, her cheeks flushing pink. "What? No! We're just… we're just friends," she stammered, caught off guard.
As the words left her mouth, she hesitated. What were they, really? The question lingered in her mind. Their relationship felt strange, undefined. She wasn't sure what they should be. But after a moment, she decided that "friends" would be okay for now.
Before Daniel could respond, the sound of sirens grew louder. The girl turned back to him, her expression shifting to concern. She looked down at his leg, noticing the way he favored his foot.
"Are you sure you're okay? You're limping."
Daniel grimaced, the adrenaline wearing off, the sharp pain in his foot now impossible to ignore. "I'm starting to feel it. I don't think it's broken, but I can't put any weight on it."
Without hesitation, she slipped his arm over her shoulder, supporting him. "Let's get you home."
They moved slowly, leaning on each other as they left the crash site behind. The blaring sirens and chaos faded into the background as they entered the quieter streets of the neighborhood. But as they walked, Daniel couldn't shake a nagging feeling—like he was forgetting something important. Something just out of reach.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember what it was.