I was completely lost and had less than an hour to reach Stratos Tower for the presentation.

The driver told me to just follow the street to reach Stratos Tower, but how far is it? I really hope he didn't just point in a random direction to get me off the bus.

I paced back and forth as I thought things through. Half expecting failure, I checked my phone again. Indeed, there was still no reception nor internet. Even the GPS function didn't work.

Did my phone break? Today of all days. Damn. No, calm down. I don't even know if the driver was telling the truth, but moving in any direction is better than staying still. Wait, aren't you supposed to stay in place when you get lost? Ah crap, I'm wasting precious time here.

I checked the time—11:06. A jolt of panic ran through my veins at the sight.

Still pacing, I smoothed out the creases in my suit, straightened up my tie, and finger combed my hair with practiced motions. Even without looking at a mirror, I knew I looked picture-perfect and professional again. Ready to challenge the world.

I picked up my briefcase from where it laid at the sidewalk, then took off at a brisk pace up the uphill street.

Fine, let's give it a try. Better to move than stagnate. This is the worst. Completely lost and now stranded with no way to hail a ride. What if I can't reach the tower on foot in an hour? No, I need to think of another way. This is a life-or-death matter.

I glanced back periodically, hoping I would spot a vacant taxi. Or even an occupied one. I wouldn't mind sharing the ride. I would even settle for any passing vehicle to beg a ride from. Resorting to hitchhiking was distasteful, but it would solve all my problems.

Considering the deserted state of the street though, I had little hope of a vehicle conveniently passing by in that exact moment. But that was exactly what happened. It was no taxi, but there on the horizon I saw a car approaching.

Elated, I waved my left hand to hail the car. "Hey! Hey! Can you give me a ride? Hey!"

The car sped past.

They didn't even slow down. Did they not see me or something?

On the bright side, this meant that the street wasn't completely deserted after all. I just had to stop the next car and ask for a ride.

I resumed walking up the street. Even if it was negligible, I want to cover as much distance as I could.

At 11:11, I heard the distant rumble of an approaching vehicle.

Whipping around, I saw the vehicle instantly. It was speeding along at 50-60 mph and would be near me in seconds. I jumped up and down vigorously, shouting my lungs out.

It sped past me without even a honk.

I stared blankly at the retreating taillights.

This is ridiculous. What am I doing wrong? They can't have missed me jumping and shouting like that. The next one for sure.

Stopping in place, I turned around and kept my eyes peeled. With the deserted state of the street, there's no guarantee that the next passing car would not be the last. I had to be ready to seize the chance.

I swallowed nervously, hyperaware of the passing time. My chance of making it in time for the meeting is getting smaller and smaller with every minute that slipped past. I held my briefcase in a tight grip, the leather handle creaking ominously.

Finally, at 11:13, I saw an approaching vehicle in the distance. Like all the others before it, it was speeding just a tad too fast for what was appropriate in the city. But I couldn't care less. In fact, I hoped they would pick me up and then go even faster. I dropped my briefcase and waved my hands above my head with all my might.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

"Hey! Heeeeyyy! I need some help! Please stop! Wait, no. No! Stop! Stop! Stop you asshole!"

My heart sank as the car sped past without slowing down. My throat was sore from all the shouting, my arms felt like lead weights were tied to them from all the waving around I did. I might have even pulled a muscle on my shoulder.

This can't go on. Why aren't they stopping? Am I doing this wrong?

Desperate, I went off the sidewalk and stood in the middle of the four-lane street, hoping to at least have a chance of stopping a car.

Almost instantly, I saw a black car approaching from the distance. I profess I wasn't that familiar with cars. The city had a very robust public transport infrastructure and was clearly the superior option. Or so I thought before I met that damned bus driver.

The approaching car was all sharp edges and painted matte black. Even to my uninformed eyes, I knew it was different from the rest. I've seen sport cars before, but this car was clearly a notch above.

Now that's a ride I can get behind.

"Hey! I'm sorry, but can you please stop! I need some help!" I shouted. I didn't like the way my voice trembled with desperation, but it would hopefully convince them to stop.

It didn't. The car barreled towards me without any signs of stopping.

Are you really not going to stop? What the hell!

With barely seconds to spare, I balked and threw myself back to the sidewalk. The black car sped past me.

What is wrong with these people?!

I checked the time and felt my heart stutter. It was already 11:14.

Left with no other choice, I sprinted up the street.

Barely a minute later, I was gasping like a landed fish. My heart tightened uncomfortably as it pounded crazily in my chest. A river of sweat ran down my neck, back, and thighs. The itch was torture. I was wearing dress shoes unsuitable for running, so my feet were aching.

I slowed to a stop and hunched over. The brisk, winter air burned on my lungs, contrasted by the blazing heat from the sun above. I tasted something sweet on the back of my dry throat.

I can't do this. I'm dying. I'm dead.

The sound of my hoarse breathing filled my ears. A rattling, pathetic, wheeze that highlighted how out of shape my body was. But I couldn't help myself. I have a genetically weak heart. Exercising in my condition would require more care and time than I could afford.

Ah, who am I kidding? I was just too lazy to exercise. I swear I'll start exercising regularly if I make it through this.

I took off my tie and tucked it in my suit pocket, it was choking me. I forced my uncooperative legs to speed-walk up the street.

The slope uphill isn't that bad. I can still make it if I don't tire myself out. I can probably jog my way there if I push myself a bit. Running like that was dumb of me.

Calm down, think. Pace yourself. What do I do?

As I powerwalked, I kept my head on a swivel, eyes peeled for a solution. The buildings on both sides of the street were dark and lifeless.

How is the street this desolate? Where's all the people?

As if in response to my thoughts, I saw a boy of about 10 years old just ahead. There were no adults around him as far as I could tell. I followed the child's gaze upwards and saw a dozen colorful balloons stuck on a horizontal cloth awning above him.

Damn. I don't have time for this. I need solutions, not more problems. Sorry kid.

I jogged past the boy, ignoring the sound of him jumping behind me.

I didn't turn back. I had no time.

The boy continued jumping.

Fine, I need to catch my breath anyways.

I stopped and turned around to face the boy. "Hey, kid, stop jumping and get an adult to help you. You'll fall."

The boy ignored me. He saw nothing else but the balloons above him.

His task was a hopeless one. The balloons hung too far above him. Even I couldn't reach them. I might if I jumped with all my might though.

I should help him. It's the right thing to do. But how long will that take? There's a dozen or so balloons. I'll have to jump a dozen times. and be even more tired than I am now. And that's assuming I manage to snag one balloon in every jump. Sorry but I have my own problems. I can't waste time and energy here. It's not like you'll die without those balloons, just take it as a life lesson. You should've held on tight to the things precious to you.

"Kid, stop jumping. You'll trip and fall. I'm sorry, but I'm in a rush. Wait for the next adult," I said.

I resumed my jog. I really couldn't afford to waste more time here.

I heard something fall behind me.

I paused. Damn it.

Just as I turned around, a yellow bus roared past on the street to my left. The wind of its passing hit me like a wave, ruffling my hair.

Was that red paint on its bumper?

I looked around for the boy who had fallen, but there was no sign of him.

Nothing but an ominous red smear on the street. The balloons hung above in silence, abandoned.

I stared at the empty street.

Wha? What the hell?

I looked up the street, but the bus was long gone by then.

The bus was yellow wasn't it? It's probably a school bus then. The kid probably got on. Yes, that red stain is just paint. Kids love paint don't they?

An urge to check the stain rose in me, but I pushed it down. I had no time.

I turned around and ran.