With the letter firm in his hand, Milan kept running his eyes down the page, as if something would change, that the letters and words would rearrange themselves into something that wasn’t so unfathomable, but they didn’t move. What was this letter all about? Should he stay awake if he decided not to go? Milan would only need a second to reach a conclusion; scratch that. He had an exam tomorrow morning. He’d been putting all his hard work in studying the entire semester, so flunking it wasn’t an option. But then should he go? Something dangerous could happen to him. He’d still fail if he got hurt somehow and wouldn’t be able to show up for the exam tomorrow. So going wasn’t an option either.

  Milan shrugged. Whatever. Empty threats weren’t enough to scare him. Whoever wrote this didn’t know him well enough.

  But something was off-putting about the letter, other than that. Dear, dear Milan. Could Dad be right? That it was from someone admiring him, considering the two ‘dears’? It didn’t make sense. No one would write in such a way to someone they admired, except if they were crazy. And obsessed enough to see him to the point where they would threaten him…

  Milan didn’t realize how long he’d been walking until he stood in front of a wooden door, too familiar for him to keep going. His phone buzzed.

  Door’s open.

  He turned the doorknob. The smell of old socks mixed with pizza trash whiffed in the air, making him gag. What met his eyes was worse. Oily card boxes were thrown on the faded green sofa and month-old dirty dishes in the sink had stacked up one after another, a sour smell erupting from the pile.

  “You still haven’t done your dishes?” Milan’s face twisted.

  “Nah.” Damien lounged on the sofa, his head in a video game and fingers flicking between the controller buttons. “Finals, ya know?”

  Milan waited, observing him. Nothing seemed off about him. Not that he suspected him. Damien was one of his close… acquaintances. But he had to consider everything to find the culprit. He couldn’t leave it be, after all. No matter how many times his brain would tell him not to worry about it or it was a stupid joke, something in the pit of his stomach overturned. He couldn’t shake off the feeling.

  Deep in thought, he trudged inside the open-plan kitchen and opened the refrigerator. And what was there? Cans of soda sitting on every row, as far as the eye could see. Only soda. With sugar.

  “You don’t even have bottled water?” Milan asked.

  “Nah, bro. Tap water.”

  Milan cast a fixed glance at the sink again. ‘Nah’ thanks. He wouldn’t be able to fit a glass between the water tap and the sink.

  Milan shook his head, heading into the living room. He threw the pizza boxes off the sofa and plumped his body beside Damien.

  “Why are you even gaming? We were supposed to look over our notes.” Study books, notes, and papers were scattered all over the table. How were they supposed to study like this?

  “Ya, I know, ya know. Waiting on Travis.”

  Milan gazed at his watch. Twenty minutes past eight. Could Travis be the culprit? Was he waiting for him in the park right now? He’d be alibi-less if he failed to show up at Damien’s house. Was he dumb enough to do that? Milan thought about it for a moment. Yes. He was.

  Snatching a physics study book from the table, Milan flipped through the pages. He wasn’t going to waste his time doing nothing when he had a test coming up. Astrophysics, kinematics, electromagnetism, they were all subjects that wouldn’t hurt reexamining again. That was what Milan told himself. But as the minutes passed by, he glanced at his watch more and more, and his focus slipped. At some point, he was reading the words without them committing to his memory. It could’ve been a prank letter from Travis. But Travis wasn’t that kind of guy to pull pranks. Could Damien and Travis have planned it together?

  Milan rubbed his eyebrow. Before he reached a conclusion, the door clicked open, and Travis came into sight in the doorway.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  “Sorry, I’m technically a little late!”

  Milan snapped the book shut. Late. Again. But at least that meant he wasn’t the one who’d written the letter.

  “I couldn’t find my game console.” Travis stepped into the living room. “But technically…”

  “Wait, what?” Milan said. “What do you need your game console for?”

  “There’s this quest in Lord of the Universes. We gotta collect a million sacred tree branches by tonight, bro,” Damien said.

  “Technically, we’ll be appointed a scarce award. The Time Wand!”

  Milan rubbed his temples as Travis slumped on the sofa beside him. He was caught right in the middle of their rambling about this stupid game.

  “And technically, did you see my ultimate teleportation card?” Travis shoved his arm in front of Milan’s face to show Damien.

  “Yah, bro, see my time score in this last quest!”

  Here we go again, Milan thought and checked his watch. 8:40. It would take ten minutes to get there. He should go early in case.

  “I’m leaving.” Milan stood.

  Damien and Travis stared at Milan, vacant-eyed, as if he had said something wrong.

  “Bro, we’ll start studying now,” Damien said in a soft voice as he threw away his console.

  Travis nodded with gleaming eyes.

  “It’s not that,” Milan said. “Just got something to do.”

  He walked out the door, leaving behind his idiot friends. Now that he was sure it wasn’t Damien or Travis playing tricks on him, he didn’t feel like sharing the letter he had received this evening. There was no point. They didn’t need to know.

  With those thoughts in mind, he trudged his way to Hope Park.

  His wristwatch showed ten minutes to nine when he arrived. Nothing was out of place. Insects flew around the lampposts, as their lights threw ugly pools of yellow on the road. A few kids screamed and ran after each other. Someone was walking their dog. The usual. But anything could happen in a second. He could be ambushed or threatened with a weapon. Good thing he’d snatched a knife from Damien’s kitchen, just in case. The tip was chipped off, but it should still work. If someone tried to assault him, he wouldn’t think twice before defending himself. He thought about calling the police, but that would mean overdoing it. He still wasn’t sure whether someone had been too bored or if they had beef with him and wanted to make him look stupid.

  The opposite could also be the case. That someone out there had written this and meant every word.

  Milan’s fingers gripped the knife in his pocket. It wasn’t like him to act irrationally like this. There was something about that letter…

  It was nine now. He pricked up his ears for the most insignificant sounds. Cheeps of sparrows, rattling sounds from the bush, weird cat noises in the distance. He turned his head in multiple directions. Milan expected it anytime. Crunching feet against the earth, a figure in the distance approaching.

  But nothing.

  Why? Milan remained in the center of Hope Park, so anyone should be able to see him. Could it be they were late for their own arrangement?

  Milan loosened his grasp around the knife. He was willing to wait a few minutes. It wasn’t over. Yet, his muscles relaxed, and his body slouched, losing its rigid posture.

  Still nothing.

  Time went on, and before he knew it, an additional ten minutes had passed, and no one had shown.

  Milan plunged his hands into his pocket pants and scurried out of the park. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been for taking the letter seriously. What a waste of time. All this for what? Nothing.

  Well, yeah. No one smart enough would show up and reveal themselves. They wouldn’t want Milan to find out who wrote the letter. Or it could’ve been a lame joke. He could think of a few people that didn’t like him. Not that it mattered.

  Milan snapped the door open to his house. “I’m home.”

  The house was dead silent, only the empty living room welcomed him. The shiny leather couch was overspread with pillows, facing the TV mounted to the wall. Milan stepped further inside, the silky material of the rug brushing against the soles of his feet. Had his parents gone to bed? His family were early risers, including him, so it wouldn’t be unusual for them to go to bed early. But the lights were on. Mom never forgot to turn off all the lights before going to bed.

  Whatever. Waking up at five in the morning to study had drained Milan of energy. He was too tired to think about it. He darted the stairs to his room and set the alarm to the same time he woke up today. He couldn’t waste time sleeping when he had an exam. Tomorrow was his last chance.

  Milan unfastened his wristwatch and placed it on his study table. His body slumped against the bed, and he fell into a deep sleep.