CHAPTER 3: RENDEZVOUS (PART 2)
721 Words
I left the house feeling strangely confident — like something had finally shifted in the universe. I packed what little I thought I’d need, slipped on the bracelet I should’ve given her, and stepped outside before I could overthink any of it. The night felt different, heavier, like the air itself was listening.
The rendezvous point was the plaza, and it was close enough to walk. Easy. Convenient. Suspiciously convenient.
But when I got there…
nothing.
Nobody.
Not even a shadow pretending to be human.
Just me.
I sat on the cold concrete steps, waiting. Minutes turned into hours. My legs numb, my back stiff, my eyes stinging from too much screen light as I drowned the boredom by watching livestream games. Six hours. Six freaking hours of waiting like some abandoned dog.
No footsteps.
No message.
No explanation.
But when I finally checked my phone — the conversation was gone.
Not archived.
Not hidden.
Gone.
Like it had been erased with surgical precision.
For a moment, the world tilted sideways. My heartbeat felt too loud. The plaza lights seemed too dim. My fingers trembled in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge. I refreshed the inbox over and over — nothing. Not even a trace. As if no one had ever reached out. As if it was all happening inside my skull.
And that thought…
That thought scared me more than any stranger could.
I left the plaza looking like a drenched chicken — except it hadn’t even rained. My whole body felt cold, unsettled. My mind kept looping one question:
Did I imagine the whole thing?
Or did someone erase it on purpose?
I slept as soon as I reached my bed. Or maybe “collapsed” is the better word. My dreams were loud — zombies chasing me, tearing through streets that looked too much like home. Terrifying, sure, but strangely fun. The kind of fun nightmares shouldn’t be allowed to have.
Morning hit me like a slap.
Again:
no rice.
no viand.
no anything.
The fridge was so empty it echoed. So I went back to that inconvenient store — the one that feels like it scams its customers for sport. A tiny juice box at a ridiculous price. Snacks that vanished into my stomach like dust. Chicken necks that tasted better than they looked, which is saying something.
But the whole time I ate, that missing conversation clung to the back of my mind like a stain that wouldn’t wash out.
Who messages someone for a secret meeting…
then vanishes?
Deletes the entire thread?
Leaves no digital fingerprint behind?
That kind of clean disappearance isn’t normal.
I tried to sleep after eating, but then I remembered the dishes. The mountain of plates, cups, greasy utensils — untouched for days, maybe weeks. Time blurs in a house like mine. I washed them, one by one, feeling something watchful creeping at the edge of my awareness.
Not a presence.
Not a sound.
Just… a shift.
Like an unseen eye blinking.
I brushed it off and went back to bed. Played my usual playlist — the sad songs, the emotional ones, the ones that make your soul feel bruised. Sometimes upbeat tracks slipped in, but they only made the silence afterward feel sharper.
Sleep dragged me under fast.
Another dream.
Another chase.
This time, not zombies.
A man.
Tall.
Heavy steps.
A blade glinting in the dark like it had a heartbeat of its own.
I felt the stab — a sharp, burning punch deep in my side. But somehow, I still ran. I don’t know how. Pain shouldn’t let me move. But in dreams, fear rewrites the rules.
And then I woke up.
Heart hammering.
Shirt soaked in sweat.
Breathing like I’d sprinted across a war zone.
My bladder saved me again — always the ridiculous hero of my nightmares. I stood there in the bathroom, shaking, trying to remember the man’s face… but it dissolved every time I blinked.
When I checked my phone, my stomach dropped.
Still no messages.
Still no trace.
Still nothing.
Blocked?
Erased?
Imagined?
I kept telling myself I didn’t care…
but it was a lie.
Because now, I’m thinking about him.
Or her.
Or it.
Whoever — or whatever — wanted to meet me.
And more importantly…
why they needed me alone.
- Writer
