As I walked down the street, I let out a sigh and thought to myself, "Is this really the life I wanted?" I guess most adults start having thoughts like that after turning thirty.
"I should stop thinking about this and hurry... looks like it's going to rain any second now." And, just as I expected, it started raining. Luckily, I was already under the awning at the entrance of the apartment building.
Climbing the stairs to the second floor, I could feel my legs aching from the walk home after work. At the top, I reached the corridor, with a short wall on the left giving a view of the city, and several doors lining the right.
I glanced at the city, though not for long—because of the rain. "Was it really a good idea to move to the other side of the world?" My life was quiet. No complicated relationships. Just coworkers and a few hobbies, which some might find a little strange.
Stopping at my door, I started patting my pockets for the apartment key. I always tossed it into some random pocket, too used to the routine to even care where. Not that I don't worry about dropping it.
"Here it is," I muttered in a low, tired voice.
I unlocked the door with a click, turned the knob, and stepped inside. With my heel, I shut the door behind me as I loosened the knot of my tie.
With the feeling of relief in the neck due to the looseness of the tie. I left my shoes at the entrance—already used to that tradition, although at first it confused me.
Walking down the hallway, I could already see the living room and kitchen. They were practically the same space. The mess was hard to ignore. I sighed, thinking that cleaning would have to happen soon.
"I guess I can leave that for later. It's not like anyone visits anyway," I told myself, brushing off the responsibility for now.
I dropped my work bag on the couch, walked to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Empty. Another sigh escaped me.
"Seriously? I completely forgot about groceries. Haah... I'll head to a nearby store after the rain. Might as well take a shower while I wait." With that thought, I went to the bathroom.
After a long, hot shower, I felt a little more relaxed. The rain still hadn't stopped.
"I'm not really hungry, to be honest. I think I'll head to my room and turn on the computer." With nothing else in mind, and our main project running smoothly, I figured I could take the opportunity for some free time.
"Yeah, I'll work on project 'Vazio'." That's what I called it—a game I made for myself. Just a floating island in the void, where I dumped all the prototypes and test builds for work. It was personal, never meant for release. Out of everything, there were only seven beings that I'd poured all my spare time and energy into.
"Those seven became known as 'the seven wives,' thanks to my coworkers teasing me," since I spent more time with them than with anyone else whenever I had a moment to spare.
"Well, it is what it is. It's been my little dream since I was a kid. I think it's the only project I've kept working on since I moved here." With those thoughts, I turned on the computer. It would take a few seconds to boot up, so I plugged in my phone to charge in the meantime.
I pulled up the chair, sat down, and leaned forward toward the screen. Seeing the shortcut to the project already on the desktop.
Just as I clicked on it and the project was about to open, I heard a loud thunder. The lights flickered... then everything went dark.
"What? Seriously? The power went out now of all times? You've gotta be kidding me," I muttered, frustration creeping into my voice.
I tried walking through the dark, but something felt off. It wasn't just dark. It was an unnatural kind of darkness. I couldn't feel anything. No bed to the side, no desk behind me. I moved forward. Sideways. Backward. Nothing.
"Am I dreaming?" I asked myself, reminded of those strange, pitch-black dreams.
"Did I fall asleep at the keyboard again?" It wouldn't be the first time.
While I was trying to make sense of things, everything around me started turning white. The brightness stung my eyes. I shut them instinctively, and darkness returned.
When I opened them again, I was in a massive hall. It looked like a throne room, all white, as if made of polished marble.
I felt my hand under my chin and realized I was leaning against one of the arms of the throne—polished and pure white. My posture reflected complete boredom: my left hand was closed in a fist, resting against the left side of my chin, while my left elbow was propped on the armrest.
"Hm? Why am I like this? What the hell is going on?"