Know how a day goes from “good enough” to “now that’s bad”?

  You clock in. Boss tells you to set up the conference room. You swing open the door—BAM.

  HR head. Office sweetheart. Desk. Bent over. Going at it like tomorrow’s layoffs don’t exist.

  Not the first time. Second? Nope. Third. Like some corporate tradition passed over for generations.

  You sigh. Lean against the doorframe. “Really?”

  They freeze. He’s still inside her. She glares. He scowls. Like I’m the asshole here.

  “Get out,” you say.

  “Fuck off,” they say.

  So, you do the only sensible thing. Snap a pic. Drop it in the office Slack. No caption. No context. Just let the chaos unfold.

  Ten minutes later, I’m in HR. Not with them—they’re busy pulling their pants up and scrubbing their work history. Nope. It’s just me. Being told I’m fired. For public indecency.

  Makes sense, right? No, no, really—justice served. Wouldn’t have it any other way.

  You stand by the road. Hands in your pockets. Staring at nothing.

  Think, That was bad, but it can’t get worse, right?

  Right.

  Then your phone buzzes. Once. Twice. Then nonstop.

  Messages. Missed calls. Friends. Family. Even your old landlord—the guy you once helped carry groceries.

  Why?

  Because your girlfriend—ex-girlfriend now—went live. A million followers watching as she sobbed, choked up, painted you as the villain. Cheater. Abuser. The whole cinematic experience.

  Never mind the ten years you spent supporting her. The unemployment. The depression. The screaming matches with her parents. The endless breakdowns. Never mind that you knew—you knew—she was a walking disaster. And still, you bought a ring.

  Doesn’t matter now.

  The world has its story. You’re the monster. The bastard. The worst thing since war crimes.

  And the best part? You can’t even prove otherwise.

  You sigh. Shake your head. Can’t get worse than this.

  You silence your phone. Only one name missing from the chaos—Dave. Best friend since forever. Maybe the only one who gets it.

  Or so you hope.

  You catch a bus. Head straight for Dave’s pastry shop.

  Step out. Pause. The place is packed. Weird. Never seen it this busy.

  You move closer. Look through the glass.

  And there it is. A giant poster. Bold letters:

  “FRIENDSHIP ENDED WITH NATHAN. NOW ANWAR IS MY BEST FRIEND. FUCK NATE.”

  Right beneath it, a photo. Dave and some guy—Anwar. Arms around each other. Smiling. Below them, your face. Crossed out in green like some failed job applicant.

  Inside, the crowd cheers. Dave and Anwar hug. People clap. Shout. Celebrate.

  You just stand there. Stare for a long second. Then sigh. That’s why he didn’t call.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Something heavy settles in your chest. Not quite anger. Not quite sadness. Just… hollow.

  You turn. Step back on the bus. Take the farthest seat in the corner. Stare at nothing.

  Just existing.

  You don’t sit there replaying every mistake. Because there weren’t any.

  You don’t wonder what you could’ve done differently. Because you did everything right.

  So who’s left to blame?

  Who else but yourself.

  You sigh. Long. Quiet.

  Then lean back. Watch the city blur past.

  And just let it be.

  .

  .

  .

  I sit there. Eyes closed. Breathing slow. Head empty.

  The bus jerks to a stop. People shuffle off. Others push in. A lurch, and it moves again.

  I don’t look. Don’t care.

  The city slides past, stop after stop.

  Some stops loud—laughter, shouting, boots on pavement. Some quiet—just a lone figure stepping into the dark, vanishing like a bad dream.

  Some stops bright—fluorescent lights buzzing, neon signs flickering like dying stars. Some stops dark—nothing but shadows swallowing everything whole.

  My stop?

  No clue. Maybe I already passed it. Maybe it was never there to begin with. Wouldn’t be the first time I lost something without noticing.

  The bus keeps filling. Too many people. Too much noise.

  College kids, drunk on youth and cheap vodka, talking like they’ve solved the meaning of life. Shoppers, buried under plastic bags, debating whether they really needed that fifth scented candle. A baby wails. Someone argues over the phone, and from the sounds of it, they’re losing.

  Somewhere—a duck quacks. A cat meows. A dog barks. Like they’re all in on some joke I missed the setup for. A full goddamn zoo, packed into this rusted metal coffin.

  I don’t react.

  The glass vibrates against my shoulder. The engine hums beneath my feet. Voices rise and fall, crashing like waves, but I’m already too deep.

  Something in my chest feels heavy. Too heavy. Like I swallowed a brick, and gravity’s got a grudge against me personally.

  I sink. My body slumps. My head tilts back.

  Sleep comes. Not because I want it.

  Because, well—what the hell else is there to do?

  Then—

  “Can I sit here?”

  A voice. Smooth. Feminine.

  I hear it, but I don’t move. Don’t open my eyes. Maybe if I ignore it, she’ll take the hint.

  “Hey, can I sit here?” she asks again. Closer this time.

  I don’t respond. Not like I own the damn bus. She can sit wherever she wants. It’s a free country, last I checked.

  Silence. A pause. Then—

  “Your bag.”

  I crack one eye open. Just enough to see her standing there, looking down at me.

  Oh. Right. My bag.

  The only thing stopping the world from getting any closer. The last line of defense between me and unwanted human interaction.

  I stare at it. Then at her.

  She waits.

  I sigh. “I was kinda hoping you’d take the hint and pick literally any other seat.”

  She smirks. “And I was kinda hoping you’d be polite and move your bag.”

  I exhale through my nose. “Yeah, well. Life’s full of disappointments, isn’t it?”

  Her smirk doesn’t budge. “Tell me about it.”

  I sigh again. A long, suffering kind of sigh. Then I grab the bag, drop it onto my lap, and gesture to the seat like I just sacrificed something important. I did.

  “Behold,” I say, deadpan. “A throne, just for you.”

  She sits. “How generous.”

  I close my eyes again. “I try.”

  The bus rumbles on. I wait for sleep to take me.

  But… it just doesn’t.

  Figures. The one thing in my life that shows up when I don’t want it suddenly decides to ghost me when I do.

  And now, every noise I ignored before? Feels like it’s happening inside my skull.

  The baby wailing? Louder. The college kids? Somehow even dumber. The rusted brakes screeching at every stop? A personal attack.

  Worst of all? The woman beside me. Chatting away with the granny across the aisle.

  And not just any granny—the one with the Shepherd puppy dozing at her feet. The only creature on this godforsaken bus that understands the value of shutting the hell up.

  They talk about nothing. The weather. Some reality show. The price of onions, for God’s sake.

  And just like that, my last shred of peace? Gone.

  What the hell am I even doing here?

  First time I actually wonder.

  I should just get off at the next stop. Walk home. Hell, crawl if I have to. Anything’s better than—

  BOOM!

  The world explodes.

  A shockwave rips through the bus, slamming into my skull like a hammer. My teeth rattle. My ribs vibrate. The whole damn bus jolts hard to the left. My shoulder cracks against the window.

  The woman beside me? She crashes right into my chest, driving the air out of my lungs.

  That hurt.

  Screams. Metal shrieking. Glass shattering. A blur of noise and chaos as the bus lurches—hard—smashing through something solid. A barrier? A guardrail? I don’t know. Don’t have time to think.

  Because suddenly—we’re falling.

  A gut-wrenching, stomach-in-your-throat kind of drop. I lift off my seat. Weightless. Like I just got cut loose from gravity itself.

  The woman’s hands clutch at me—tight. Fingers digging into my jacket, eyes locked on mine. Raw terror.

  I should say something. Something reassuring. Something brave.

  Instead, all I manage is: “Oh, this is gonna suck.”

  Windows crack like gunshots. The frame twists. Metal screams like a dying animal. The air turns sharp—hissing, rushing, wrong.

  A second stretches impossibly long. The whole world gasping in slow motion.

  Blinding white light floods in. Growing. Bright. Too bright.

  Impact’s coming. No stopping it now.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Brace.

  BAM!

  The world goes white.