The words on the card stared back at Zeno mockingly. It felt like those pop-up ads that said "YOU'VE WON A MILLION DOLLARS!" but were really just viruses that never went away.
EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.
He stared at the words. The words stared back.
"Wow," he muttered under his breath. "These damn bastards."
He wasn't sure if he meant the production team, the Ascendants, or the universe in general. Maybe all three.
Of all the topics in the world, they had to give him the exact one that already had a deluxe, all-expenses-paid timeshare in his brain. Couldn't he have gotten something light? A breakup? A food fight? Miscommunication?
Nope. He got EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.
He turned the card over, hoping it would magically transform. Nope. Still EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.
Was this the cherry on top? He already knew he wasn't going to make it past 25. He already met someone who did. He already had hope dangled in front of him, only to have it smacked out of his hands.
