The Date above Their Heads

I learned a long time ago not to look people in the eye, not because I’m shy, not because I lack confidence, but because of what I’ll see if I do. So I don’t. I keep my head down as I walk through the city, my eyes fixed on the pavement like it holds something important, like if I just focus hard enough, I’ll never have to look up again. Cracks in the concrete stretch in uneven lines beneath my feet. Gum stains. Faded paint. The occasional shadow passing too close. Safe things. Normal things. Around me, the city is alive in the way it always is, loud, restless, impatient. Car horns blare somewhere to my left. A bus exhales as it pulls to a stop. People talk over each other, their voices blending into a constant hum that never really fades. It should feel familiar. It should feel grounding. But it doesn’t. It feels distant. Like I’m moving through a world I’m not fully part of. Because I’m focused on one thing. Not looking up. I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder, tightening my grip just slightly as someone brushes past me. My steps stay steady. Controlled. Practiced. I’ve gotten good at this. If I don’t look, I don’t see. If I don’t see, I don’t have to know. And if I don’t know, “Hey, watch it!” The voice comes out of nowhere. Someone collides into me hard enough to make me stumble, my shoulder knocking against theirs. My balance shifts, and instinct takes over before I can stop it. I look up. And just like that… everything changes. 12.09.2028 The numbers hover above his head, faint but unmistakable, glowing softly against the daylight like something that doesn’t belong in this world. I freeze. There it is. A date. There’s always a date. For a second, everything else fades—the noise, the movement, the people rushing past us. All I can see are those numbers, hanging there like a quiet warning. My stomach twists, but I force myself to breathe. Not today. Not tomorrow. Months away. Relief doesn’t come. It never really does. But it’s easier to carry when it’s not immediate. “I said watch it,” the man mutters, already moving past me like nothing happened. Of course he is. He doesn’t know. None of them ever do. I drop my gaze quickly, like looking any longer will make it worse, and step out of the flow of people. My pulse is slightly uneven now, but I push it down, force myself to keep moving. That’s how it works. Everyone has one. A date. Some are far. Years away. Decades, even. Those are easier to ignore. Easier to forget. But some, I swallow hard. Some are close. Too close. A burst of laughter breaks through my thoughts. Bright. Carefree. Alive. Before I can stop myself, my eyes flick up. Just for a second. Just enough. And immediately, I regret it. A girl stands a few feet away from me, surrounded by friends. She’s laughing at something one of them said, her head tilted back slightly, her whole face lit up in a way that feels… effortless. Like she doesn’t have a single reason to be afraid. Like she has all the time in the world. And above her head 01.05.2028 My breath catches. No. No, no, no. My heart slams violently against my chest, so sudden and sharp it almost knocks the air out of me. That’s today. I stare at her, my vision narrowing, my brain scrambling for some kind of mistake. Maybe I read it wrong. Maybe I look again. The numbers don’t change. They never change. 01.05.2028 Today. My fingers curl into my palms so tightly my nails press into my skin. Not again. Please, not again. I force myself to look away, but it doesn’t help. The image is already burned into my mind, clear and unavoidable. I know what today means. I know what’s coming. I just don’t know how. And that’s the part that destroys me every single time. It could be anything. A car. A fall. Something small that turns into something irreversible in seconds. Something no one sees coming until it’s already too late. I glance back at her. I shouldn’t. But I do. She’s still laughing. Still talking. Still alive. Completely unaware that her time is running out in hours… maybe minutes. My chest tightens painfully. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t even get the chance to know. And I do. I always do. That’s the difference. That’s the curse. I stand there, stuck in the middle of a moving world, unable to decide what to do with the weight sitting heavily in my chest. I could walk away. That’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s what I’ve trained myself to do. Ignore it. Leave. Pretend I never saw anything. Because the last time I didn’t, My throat closes instantly. The memory presses in at the edges of my mind, sharp and unwelcome. A voice. A hand slipping from mine. Blood. I shake my head slightly, like I can physically force it back down before it takes over. Don’t. Don’t think about that. Not here. Not now. A car speeds past, the rush of wind brushing against my skin, snapping me back into the present. Everything looks the same. Nothing looks different. But I know better. I always know better. I risk another glance at her. She’s still there. Still smiling. Still living like she has tomorrow. Something in my chest cracks just a little. I could leave. I should leave. I’ve done it before. Too many times. I turn slightly, forcing my feet to move. One step. Then another. Walk away. That’s what I tell myself. That’s what I always tell myself. Because getting involved never ends well. It never fixes anything. It only makes it worse. I take another step. Then another. Just keep walking. Just A sharp screech of tires slices through the air. Everything stops. My heart drops straight into my stomach. The sound is too close. Too sudden. Too wrong. And before I can stop myself I turn.