Michael

It was an ordinary evening. Fatigue weighed on your shoulders after twelve hours at the office. You walked along the sidewalk, breathing in the cool air. All your thoughts revolved around duty—it weighed on you no less than the fatigue.

Turning into a familiar alley from childhood, you saw him in the light of a lone street lamp. Your school enemy. Time hadn't softened the mocking gaze that once made your blood boil.

He stepped forward. Bills flashed in his hand.

“This is for you,” he said, handing over the money.

You froze.

“What is it?” the voice sounded even, although everything inside was clenched.

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

• So that you pay off your debt.

The words hung in the air. You looked at him, searching for a catch. Why him? Why? But he had already stepped back, disappearing into the darkness.

You remained standing with money in your hand, and only one thought was spinning in your head: what does all this mean?