1/1/2025, Baltimore, Maryland
Baltimore, Maryland, January 1, 2025. The city bristled with the remnants of New Year's Eve—confetti stuck to wet asphalt, half-lit neon signs buzzing like tired wasps, and a cold wind that made people tug their coats tighter as they hurried about. Kairo Solis wasn't hurrying, though. He walked with the weight of the world on his shoulders, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, his head tilted down as if the ground held the answers he was looking for.
He was on his way back from his part-time job at a corner store, the meager paycheck burning a hole in his pocket—not because he wanted to spend it, but because he already knew it wouldn't cover the electric bill this month. He paused at the edge of an alley, his breath curling in the frosty air. Behind him, the distant sound of a street performer's saxophone wove through the chill, discordant yet oddly soothing.
Kairo took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh, muttering to himself. "Happy New Year, huh? Another 365 days of... this."
The "this" he referred to wasn't just the gray monotony of life in Baltimore but the endless struggle to keep his younger sister, Lina, afloat. Their mother had always said they were a team, but after their dad walked out five years ago and their mother took on a second job, "team" started to feel like code for survival. Now, the team was just Kairo and Lina, and that was an even heavier burden.
Kairo reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone. He checked the time—7:45 PM—and shot Lina a text:
"On my way home. Want anything?"
The reply came almost instantly:
"Just you! 😊 Don't forget your smile, bro."
Despite himself, Kairo smiled faintly. Lina always knew how to soften his hard edges, even if he didn't think he deserved it.
The streets began to clear as night fell, the festive buzz of the day giving way to the city's usual undercurrent of tension. Kairo passed by a group of men arguing on a corner, their voices sharp and angry. He didn't look their way—he'd learned not to—but he picked up his pace, the weight in his chest growing heavier.
By the time he reached their apartment, a squat brick building with peeling paint and an unreliable elevator, he was bone-tired. The old stairs creaked beneath his boots as he climbed to the third floor, pushing open the door to their tiny unit.
"Lina?" he called out, setting his bag down by the door.
"In here!" her voice chimed from the kitchen.
Kairo stepped in to find her perched on a stool, doodling in a sketchbook. A pot of something—probably ramen—simmered on the stove. Lina was 15, but her demeanor often swung between childlike innocence and wisdom beyond her years. She had their mother's bright eyes and quick smile, though her hair was cropped short, something she'd decided on her own last summer.
"How was work?" she asked, not looking up from her sketch.
"Same as always," Kairo replied, shrugging off his jacket. "Quiet. Boring. But hey, no one tried to rob the place today, so that's a win."
Lina laughed, a soft, bell-like sound that always made him feel lighter. "You should find a better job," she said, flipping a page in her book.
"Yeah, I'll get right on that," he said, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard. "Right after I win the lottery."
They shared a laugh, but Kairo's stomach twisted. He wanted better for her—for both of them—but the world wasn't exactly handing out opportunities to guys like him.
Later that night, as Kairo lay awake in his small, sagging bed, he stared at the ceiling and thought about what the new year might bring. His mind wandered to the future, a hazy, uncertain thing that felt more like a threat than a promise.
He closed his eyes and let the sounds of the city lull him—a distant siren, the hum of a passing car, the murmur of a neighbor's television. Just as he began to drift off, a sudden, sharp noise yanked him back to consciousness.
CRASH.
Kairo bolted upright, heart hammering. "Lina?" he called, already swinging his legs out of bed.
"I'm okay!" her voice came from the kitchen, shaky but steady.
He hurried out to find her standing by the counter, the remains of a broken glass scattered at her feet. She looked up at him with wide eyes.
"It just slipped," she said, her voice small.
But something about the way she said it made Kairo pause. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning the room. The air felt... different. Thicker, somehow. He couldn't explain it, but a strange sensation crawled up his spine, setting his nerves on edge.
"Are you sure?" he asked, crouching to pick up the pieces.
"Yeah," she said quickly, but her hands were trembling.
As he cleaned up the shards, he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. For a split second, he thought he saw something—a faint, dark shape looming behind her. But when he looked directly, it was gone.
Kairo shook his head, telling himself he was just tired. Still, a chill lingered in the air long after Lina had gone to bed.
As the clock ticked past midnight, Kairo sat by the window, staring out at the city below. The world was quiet now, but his mind wasn't. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change—something big.
He didn't know then that he was right.