About

The alarm goes off at the same time it always does. Your coffee brews. The street outside sounds like every other morning - someone's dog barking, a car that won't start on the first try, Delsa's door clicking shut next door. Except yesterday, a stranger pressed something into your hands with the last steady breath he had. No instructions. No dramatic shift in the sky. You just woke up and noticed the world had stopped saying no to you. Nobody else got that. Just you. And now the blank day stretching ahead of you is full of questions you haven't said out loud yet - starting with what a person is actually supposed to do with something like this.