The rain was relentless, each drop a cold reminder of the long, monotonous day Cooper had endured. His umbrella, riddled
with tiny holes, did little to shield him as he walked home along the glistening streets. The city buzzed around him—honking
cars, hurried footsteps, and the distant chatter of strangers—but Cooper felt as if he were moving through a fog, disconnected
from it all.
As he approached the crosswalk, the familiar pangs of self-doubt gnawed at him. Lila's words from that morning echoed in his
mind: "Maybe the job isn't the problem. Maybe it's you." He clenched the umbrella handle tighter, the weight of her truth
settling over him.
The light turned green, and Cooper stepped off the curb. Lost in thought, he didn't notice the car barreling down the slick
street until it was too late. A blaring horn shattered his reverie, and he turned just in time to see the blinding glare of
headlights.
The impact was sudden and violent. His body hit the pavement with a sickening thud, and the world around him dissolved into
chaos—shouting voices, screeching tires, and the distant wail of an approaching ambulance.
Then, silence.
Cooper floated in a vast expanse of shimmering light. The rain, the noise, the pain—it was all gone. Instead, there was a
profound stillness, a weightless serenity that made him feel both terrified and at peace.
"Your time has not yet come."
The voice echoed through the void, deep and resonant, as if the universe itself were speaking. A figure emerged from the light,
its form indistinct yet commanding. Cooper couldn't look away.
"Who... who are you?" he stammered, his voice trembling.
"I am a messenger," the figure replied. "Your life was not meant to end today, but a second chance comes with responsibility."
Cooper's heart pounded as the figure extended a hand toward him. The light intensified, wrapping around him like a cocoon.
"A gift will be bestowed upon you," the voice continued. "Use it wisely, for it is both a blessing and a burden."
Before Cooper could respond, the light shattered like glass, and he was pulled back into the cacophony of the real world. Pain
seared through his body as paramedics hovered over him, their voices urgent.
"Stay with us!" one of them shouted, his face a blur.
But it wasn't their voices that startled Cooper—it was the other voices, the ones he could hear clearly in his mind.
"Poor guy, lucky to be alive."
"This rain is going to make traffic a nightmare."
Cooper's eyes widened as he realized the truth. He wasn't just hearing their words; he was hearing their thoughts.
The realization hit him like a second collision. What had that figure done to him? And why?
As the ambulance sped away, Cooper's mind swirled with questions, the edges of fear and intrigue blending into one overwhelming
thought:
His life would never be the same again.