I glanced at my wristwatch for the fourth time—8:50 p.m. Only two minutes have passed since I last checked, yet it feels longer. Sweat gathers at my temples, my shirt clinging to my back. It's a hot July night.
From the corner of my eye, I watch the crowd which was formed in front of the cinema hall. The usher finally waves them inside—it's the last movie of the night. When Harry met Sally is all anyone has been talking about, and I know I have to watch it with Kimberly- my Girlfriend.
I glance at my watch again. The fifth time. 8:55 p.m. The movie will be rolling on the screen in five minutes.
With a heavy sigh, I reach into my pocket for the neatly ironed handkerchief and wipe the sweat from my forehead. Sweat beads at my hairline, and a few strands of my slicked-back hair break free, clinging to my forehead. I run a hand through it, but the gel does little to keep it in place in this damn heat. Then, I run the handkerchief over my palms, but the damage is already done—the sweat has seeped into the bouquet I picked up for Kimberly. Great. Just what I need—drenched flowers.
The night air sits heavy around me, the kind of heat that sticks to my skin and refuses to let go. I adjust my collar tie, trying to ignore how stiff everything feels. 9:05 p.m.
She isn't coming. Or maybe she's just late.
And then suddenly—blinding light. Too bright. Too sudden. It swallows everything, turning the dark summer night into a harsh, searing day. My suit, already too warm, feels suffocating now. Sweat trickles down my spine, my vest sticking to me. My breath hitches, my vision blurs, and for a moment, I swear the world has turned inside out, burning me alive in the process.
I open my tightly squeezed eyes, but even with my lids shut, I can still feel the blinding brightness burning through. When I finally manage to look around—no one. There's no one. I glance at my watch again. The same time. Only a few seconds have passed.
I still don't understand what that beam of light was.
A restless feeling creeps in. Just moments ago, this street was filled with people. And now? Empty. I turn around to face the cinema, and my stomach drops. The brightly lit, colorful theater I was just standing in front of now looks… abandoned. As if it hasn't been touched in decades.
I take a few steps toward the ticket counter, but all I see are cobwebs clinging to shattered glass. My chest tightens, and an anxious knot twists inside me. "What happened here?" I whisper, stepping back. I turn frantically, searching for people, for anything familiar. That's when I notice the buildings—tall, unfamiliar, their shapes all wrong. It's my town, but at the same time… it isn't.
A few people come into view. I don't waste a second. I run to them.
"G-good morning… what happened to the cinema hall?" I stammer, my slicked-back hair now sticking to my forehead. My breathing is uneven, my hands clammy.
They exchange glances before walking off without a word.
What is happening?
I take a sharp breath and follow after them, gripping the bouquet in my hand. Rose petals fall, scattered by my shaking fingers. "Please, answer me. I beg you," I say, my voice strained with desperation.
They stop. And then—laughter.
"Are you an alien freak? Trying to prank us?" one of them asks, looking me up and down. "Alien? I'm not an alien… I—I was waiting for Kimberly uhm s-she is my girlfriend, and then suddenly there was this beam of light, it was so sudden and then—"
Before I can even finish, they turn their backs on me and walk away.
As they walk away, my vision blurs. Tears gather in my eyes, making everything swim. Mom… Dad… I blink hard, wiping at my face before breaking into a run. My home is only two minutes from the cinema hall. If I can just get there—if I can just see them—maybe this nightmare will make sense.
But as I turn the corner, my breath catches.
My home—my home—looks just like the cinema hall. Abandoned.
The paint is peeling, the windows clouded with dust, and a massive rusted lock hangs from the front door. My legs go weak.
"Mom? Dad?" My voice is barely a whisper as I press my palm against the cold rusted lock. My throat tightens, a choked sob slipping out. This can't be real. This can't be real.
Then, I feel it—eyes.
Watching me.
I swallow hard, my skin prickling, my breath uneven. I don't turn around. I can't.