I stepped out of the office into a face full of cold rain, the kind that cuts through your jacket and makes you feel as if you're walking through a cloud of pure misery. *Sigh*. It’s not like this day could get any less mediocre.

  Another twelve-hour shift, another pile of paperwork to bury myself in when I get home. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before that. The city felt like a meaningless, gray box, and I was just stuck inside, checking the time, pretending like it mattered. It had been months—maybe years—since I’d had a day that didn’t feel like the last.

  I started the walk back to my apartment, my boots slapping against the wet sidewalk, the rain making every surface slick and unforgiving. It didn’t take long for me to be soaked to the bone, each step adding another layer of cold that seeped through my clothes. At least my computer was safe, nestled inside my waterproof backpack. Small mercies.

  The gray clouds stretched endlessly overhead, broken only by the faintest hint of sunlight, struggling to break through. For a moment, the dampness in the air seemed a little less oppressive, as though the world were just about to shake off its melancholy. But it didn’t last. The clouds once again covered the sunlight, and the evening descended back into its dreary monotony, the only hope of a sunny evening gone.

  Honk.

  The sound of a car horn snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up just in time to see a man in a sedan, making rude gestures at me through his windshield. It took a moment for me to realize I was walking straight into traffic. Great. I waved an apology and took a hasty step back onto the sidewalk. But not before he sped past, splashing a wave of dirty streetwater right into my legs.

  “Fantastic,” I muttered, watching him disappear into the rain. My shoes squelched with every step, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how truly unremarkable my life had become.

  I crossed at the light when it finally changed, making a quick left around a familiar diner. One block down. Two, maybe three, to go. Just a few more minutes, and I’d be home.

  I kept my eyes trained on the ground, careful not to step in any puddles. The last thing I needed was to slip and break something. The kind of clumsy mistake that only I could manage. But before I could fully focus again, I heard something—like a child's giggle—and glanced up in time to see a little boy dart into the street. His red balloon floated a few feet above him, bobbing just out of reach as he chased after it.

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  I froze.

  The boy wasn’t watching where he was going, completely oblivious to the speeding pickup truck barreling toward him, tires skimming over the slick asphalt. His mother, just a few steps away, was on her phone, oblivious as well.

  For a split second, I couldn’t breathe. My body froze, and my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Should I shout? Run? Do something?

  Instinct kicked in. Before I even thought it through, my legs started moving. My feet pounded the wet pavement as I sprinted toward the child. My heart slammed in my chest. I reached out, arms outstretched, and shoved the little boy back onto the sidewalk just as the truck roared past. He stumbled but stayed upright, his balloon still floating away.

  But then the truck was still coming, its engine growling louder as it tore through the rain, heading straight toward me.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.

  Time slowed, like someone had pressed pause on the world around me. I could feel the raindrops frozen, about to hit my face, cold and sharp. I could hear the hiss of tires against the wet road, the hum of the engine.

  The truck was so close now. I stared at the grill of the truck, my body rigid as I accepted what was about to happen.

  A million thoughts flashed through my mind in that suspended moment.

  Why did you do it? Why did you risk your life for that kid? You don’t even know him. You’re just an accountant.

  I didn’t even have any family left. The last person I cared about—my mother—was gone two years ago. I hadn’t really been close to her, but still…

  What was your life?

  I had a degree from Harvard. I worked a boring job at some forgettable firm, punching numbers into spreadsheets, pretending it mattered. No one noticed me, and honestly, I didn’t care enough to stand out. What had I achieved? What was I going to leave behind?

  As the truck drew nearer, my mind raced.

  What do you want from life? What’s left for you to do?

  The thought came to me unbidden, unexpected. I wanted… more. Not this. I wanted adventure. I wanted to feel something—passion, ambition, purpose. I wanted a reason to wake up and go into the world for some reason other than making spreadsheets.

  And then, with a deafening roar, the truck was upon me. I braced for impact, eyes squeezed shut. It was over.

  But then everything stopped completely.

  The air around me seemed to freeze, the world mute. The rain, the truck, the street—all of it lost color. The only thing with color left was a blue rectangular window that appeared right in front of my face. It looked almost like something out of one of those old RPG games I used to play.

  [Conditions Met. Accessing System. Current universe is not compatible. Transporting commencing.]

  I blinked, disoriented. “What the fu—?”