Lucas Arden stood at the edge of the sidewalk, coffee cup in hand, watching the city do its usual dance of chaos. The noise of car horns, loud conversations, and the occasional street performer grated on his nerves. He sipped his coffee, wincing at its bitterness but drinking it anyway. It matched his mood.
"Four bucks for this trash," he muttered, staring at the cardboard cup like it personally offended him. He adjusted his grip and sighed. "Morning coffee. The highlight of my miserable existence."
The crowd around him moved in every direction, bumping into each other without care. A man in a suit nearly knocked the cup out of his hand. Lucas snapped his head toward him. "You've got eyes. Use them." The man didn't even glance back.
Lucas took another sip, shaking his head. "People. Worst invention ever."
The crosswalk light changed, and Lucas stepped into the street, shuffling along with the crowd. His steps were heavy, his face twisted into a constant scowl. He glanced at a nearby couple laughing together, their hands clasped like some ridiculous movie poster. "Get a room," he muttered.
Ahead, an old woman stood near the curb. She clutched a wooden stick, her body trembling as she leaned on it. She peered at the cars zooming by, hesitating to take a step. Her face tightened as she moved one foot forward, then stopped again.
Lucas slowed down just enough to notice her. His brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed back out. "Not my problem," he muttered under his breath. He turned his eyes away, his pace steady.
A car horn blared, and Lucas didn't even flinch. The old woman jerked back, her hand tightening on her stick. Lucas could feel people around him noticing her struggle, but no one stopped. He wasn't about to either.
He crossed to the other side of the street, tossing one last glance over his shoulder. The old woman was still standing there, her lips moving as if she was whispering something to herself. Lucas shrugged it off and turned back, walking away without another thought.
He sipped his coffee again, scowling at its bitterness, and kept moving forward. Another day, another morning, another pointless life to live.
Lucas downed the rest of his coffee in one bitter gulp and crumpled the empty cup in his hand. He aimed for the trash bin by the curb and tossed it in without slowing his stride. "Bullseye," he muttered flatly, wiping his hand on his coat like the action had left some stain on him.
The building stood ahead of him, gray and lifeless, much like the job waiting for him inside. Big letters above the glass doors spelled out 'Ironclad Logistics.' He didn't need to look at them to know he hated the place.
Walking through the glass doors, Lucas felt the blast of cold, recycled air that always made his skin crawl. He ignored the cheery "Good morning, Mr. Arden!" from the receptionist and kept moving toward the elevators. The carpeted lobby muffled his footsteps, but that didn't matter. He had no interest in being noticed.
As the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, two of his colleagues stepped out. One of them, a chipper guy with an awful striped tie, nodded at Lucas. "Hey, Lucas! Did you catch the…"
Lucas walked right past him without a word, not even glancing in his direction. The guy's voice trailed off, and his face twisted in confusion.
Inside the elevator, Lucas hit the button for the third floor and crossed his arms. The ride up was too slow, the soft music too loud for his liking. When the doors opened, he stepped out into the fluorescent-lit office, rows of desks and cubicles stretching out before him like a maze designed to crush souls.
He walked to his desk in the far corner, dodging a stray office chair someone hadn't pushed in properly. One of his coworkers leaned over the divider, smiling like they'd been waiting all morning to say something. "Lucas, hey! Did you finish that…"
Lucas sat down, logged into his computer, and began typing. The coworker stood there awkwardly for a second before retreating. He didn't care. It wasn't his job to make anyone feel comfortable.
He was a data clerk…just another cog in the great machine, shuffling spreadsheets, answering pointless emails, and filing reports that no one would ever read. The monotony was endless, and so was his disdain for it. Lucas moved his mouse, clicked through the files, and started the same work he'd been doing for years.
All he wanted was to get through the day, go home, and sink into the emptiness he called peace. This job? It was just a means to an end, a way to keep the lights on in an apartment he barely cared about.
As he typed, the phone on his desk rang. He stared at it for a second, then let it go to voicemail. Whatever it was, it could wait. Everything could wait. Everything could go to hell for all he cared.
The day dragged on like a dull ache, each tick of the clock hammering into Lucas's skull. He clicked through another spreadsheet, his eyes glazing over, when something outside caught his attention.
The sky, clear and sunny just minutes ago, had turned dark…unnaturally dark. Thick, black clouds rolled in like an invading army, blotting out the sun. The office chatter dimmed for a moment as people turned to look out the windows.
"Wasn't it supposed to be clear all day?" someone asked nervously.
Lucas didn't bother looking up. "Meteorologists are just guessers with degrees," he muttered, tapping his keyboard harder than necessary.
Then, the first crack of lightning came, so bright it turned the office white for a split second. The accompanying thunder was deafening, shaking the building like an earthquake. Lucas flinched slightly but didn't move from his chair.
The storm escalated fast. Wind howled outside, fierce enough to shatter one of the office windows. Glass sprayed into the room, making people scream and duck under desks. Rain poured in like someone had turned a faucet on full blast, soaking papers, keyboards, and anything in its path. Phones rang off the hook as people scrambled to call loved ones or emergency services.
"Everyone! Stay calm!" someone yelled, though their trembling voice betrayed them.
Lucas just sat there, glaring at his monitor as though it was the source of all his problems. "Perfect. Just what this day needed," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
Colleagues were running for cover, shouting over each other, their voices mixing with the sound of the storm. Papers flew through the air, caught by the wind blowing through the broken window. One man tried to save his laptop, only to slip on the wet floor and crash into a filing cabinet.
Lucas finally stood up, not out of concern but sheer annoyance. He walked to the shattered window, peering out at the chaos. The rain hit his face like tiny needles as he leaned out, glaring at the swirling storm above.
"This what you got for me, huh?" he yelled at the sky, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is this supposed to scare me? Well, screw you too!"
The words had barely left his mouth when a blinding flash lit up the sky. The lightning came down fast and hard, striking him directly. The force threw him backward, slamming him into the desk with a sickening thud.
The office filled with gasps and screams. Some coworkers ran to his side, while others stood frozen, their faces pale with shock. Lucas's body lay motionless, his clothes singed and smoking.
Everything blurred into chaos, but Lucas? Lucas was gone. Unconscious, completely lifeless.