Ethan slipped through the doorway of an apartment building, his movements quiet and deliberate, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders.
The young girl he'd followed had disappeared into one of the units on the lower floors, her presence leaving only the faint echo of hurried footsteps in the stairwell.
It was quiet now, save for the soft hum of a distant elevator.
He ascended quickly, his feet barely making a sound on the concrete steps, every movement precise and cautious.
His senses were heightened, every creak of the building, every distant voice, a reminder to stay alert.
The higher he climbed, the quieter it became, the noise of the bustling city below fading into a faint murmur.
Only the steady rhythm of his breathing and the muted echo of his footsteps accompanied him.
When he emerged onto the rooftop, the world opened up before him.
The sprawling city of Los Angeles stretched out in every direction, its skyline dotted with shimmering glass and steel towers that reflected the golden hues of the setting sun.
The sun hung low in the sky, its warm light painting the cityscape in shades of orange and pink.
The shadows stretched long and thin, dancing across the streets below as the day slowly gave way to night.
A faint breeze brushed against his face, carrying with it the mingling scents of the city: asphalt, street food, and the faint tang of salt from the distant ocean.
He walked slowly to the edge of the rooftop, his steps deliberate as he took in the view. When he reached the edge, he sat down, his legs dangling over the side.
The height didn't faze him.
Instead, it brought a strange sense of peace, the chaos of the streets below muffled by the altitude and distance.
Up here, the world seemed simpler, quieter, as if the rooftop were a sanctuary removed from the relentless noise and motion of the city.
Ethan pulled the crumpled note from his pocket, unfolding it with care.
The handwriting was neat, almost clinical, the letters precise and measured.
He could make out the details clearly: a name, a series of numbers, and an address.
But as he stared at the words, they felt foreign, as if written in a language he had forgotten.
The name meant nothing to him, the numbers seemed like a meaningless sequence, and the address might as well have been a riddle.
Thing is he could read, but its like a primary kid reading a college textbook. He might read out the words, but he wouldn't understand.
Simply because he didn't know what these words put together meant.
He sighed, running a thumb over the paper as though the answers might surface if he stared long enough.
The sun continued its descent, the fiery hues reflecting off the distant skyscrapers like molten gold.
He leaned back slightly, letting the cool breeze dry the sweat on his face. For the first time in what felt like days, he allowed himself a moment of stillness.
The questions that had plagued him since he could remember—Who am I? Who am I running from? Where do I go now?—fell silent, drowned out by the serene beauty of the sunset.
But even as he sat there, the note in his hand carried a persistent weight, a nagging sense of importance.
He couldn't shake the feeling that the words on the page held a key—perhaps to his past, perhaps to his future.
And yet, the harder he tried to piece it together, the more elusive the answers seemed to be.
He let out another sigh, folding the note and tucking it back into his pocket. His gaze drifted to the streets below, where cars inched along like ants in a sprawling maze.
From this height, the city appeared peaceful, the distant hum of engines and voices blending into a soothing white noise.
A part of him wanted to stay here forever, to let the world move on without him while he remained cocooned in the quiet of the rooftop.
But reality clawed at him, a reminder that he couldn't afford to linger.
How am I going to find this place?
The thought surfaced suddenly, bringing with it a sense of urgency.
And then, without warning, a strange sensation rippled through him.
His body tensed, his vision blurred, and a blinding white light engulfed his senses.
It wasn't painful, but it was disorienting, as if his mind were being pulled in a thousand directions at once.
Images began to form in the void, fleeting and fragmented.
He saw himself standing on this very rooftop, but he wasn't alone. A young girl was with him.
Her face was vivid in his mind, her features unmistakable, but the conversation they seemed to share was a blur, the words indistinct and fleeting.
The scene shifted abruptly, and now he saw himself in another setting. He was dressed in all blue, a matching cap pulled low over his brow.
He stood at the entrance of a building with a large sign that read, "LA Post Office."
In his hands, he held a tablet, its screen glowing faintly in the afternoon light. The image was clear, as real as the rooftop beneath him, but before he could make sense of it, the vision ended as abruptly as it began.
The rooftop returned to focus, the golden light of the setting sun grounding him once more.
He blinked, his breath quickened, but his body felt fine—no dizziness, no pain, just an eerie clarity.
"What in fucks sake just happened?" he wondered out loud.
He looked down at his hands, half-expecting to see some sign of what had just happened. But they were unchanged, steady and unremarkable.
The only thing that had shifted was the gnawing sense of urgency building in his chest.
The vision had left him with a destination—the LA Post Office—but it had also deepened the mystery surrounding him.
Ethan sat there for a while longer, the calm of the rooftop contrasting sharply with the storm inside his mind.
He didn't move, didn't speak, just stared out at the horizon as the city lights flickered on one by one.
For now, he let the quiet settle around him, the weight of the unknown heavy on his shoulders.
Truth is that he had long known he had some weird abilities, but was that like seeing the future or something.
He didn't quite get it, but even a more pressing question, what does all this mean to him?