The night air was crisp as Jason walked home, the quiet stretching around him like an unfamiliar presence. Usually, his route was shared-Arnon tagging along, Bobby taking the same path, or at least the murmurs of city life filling the silence. Tonight, there was only the steady echo of his footsteps against the pavement, each step swallowed by the hollow stillness of the street.

He welcomed the solitude. A rare moment to exist without obligation, without conversation, without acting. Most people performed, even in the smallest ways, when they weren't alone.from simthing as simple as Sitting straighter when someone passed by or as grand as holding in a fart.

Beneath those surface-level habits we also have something primal -an ancient instinct. A remnant from an older time.A sense that prickled at the edges of consciousness when unseen eyes lingered too long.

Jason felt it now, creeping up his spine like cold fingers tracing his vertebrae. He wasn't sure if the sensation had always been there, or if his brain had conjured it from nothing, but his pace quickened nonetheless.

His apartment building loomed ahead, its dim hallway light flickering, fighting against the dark. When he reached his door, he stopped.

The handle was tilted slightly downward instead of resting straight.

A dozen rational explanations surfaced. Maybe he hadn't closed it properly. Maybe a draft from the hallway had shifted it. Maybe. But none of them settled the unease curling in his stomach, slow and insidious.

Jason exhaled, gripping the handle firmly before pushing the door open.

A shadow lunged at him.

His body reacted before his mind caught up, knees bending instinctively-but the hit came anyway, solid and unrelenting, knocking him square in the chest. He staggered back with a curse.

A familiar weight landed on him, tail wagging furiously.

"Jay, you little-" Jason started, but his voice was drowned out by laughter from the couch.

Elyse sat there, looking far too pleased with herself, legs draped over the armrest like she owned the place.

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Jason groaned, shoving the dog off and rubbing his ribs. "You trained him to do that, didn't you?"

"I wish," Elyse grinned. "Would've made my entrance way more dramatic."

Jay tilted his head at her, then whined in protest, as if personally offended.

Jason dusted himself off, then took a cautious sniff and recoiled. "When was the last time you showered? You smell exactly like when we found you in that dumpster."

Elyse held up two fingers. "One, at least I was needed here. Two, what you're smelling is either Jay or yourself, because you two stink the same to me."

Jay whined louder.

Jason grabbed the nearest thing-a sock-and launched it at her. Elyse dodged, snickering, while Jay lunged after it like it was the most valuable treasure in existence.

By the time Jason emerged from a much-needed shower, toweling his hair dry, Elyse was digging through his cabinets with a scowl.

"Bro, your kitchen is an apocalypse. You have zero human food in here." She held up a can of dog food accusingly. "Unless you're switching to this."

Jason groaned. "Ugh. Let's just eat out."

Fifteen minutes later, they were out the door, Jason pulling out his phone to call Arnon.

"You can't even go buy a matchbox alone, can you?" Elyse teased.

Jason ignored her.

Arnon picked up on the second ring. "Who died?"

"No one. Yet. You coming?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere that's still open."

"Fine, but if we end up at some overpriced fusion place, I'm setting it on fire."

Jason smirked. "Duly noted."

Their usual café was closed, forcing them to wander until they stumbled upon a small, riverside diner. The place was old, tucked away between towering buildings, almost forgotten by time. The kind of spot that still had handwritten menus and an actual bell above the door.

An elderly couple greeted them warmly, ushering them to a table with a perfect view of the river.

Jason exhaled, the unease from earlier fading into the warm hum of conversation and the scent of fresh food.

"I could get used to this," Elyse murmured, stretching.

Arnon, however, was already distracted, phone screen dimly reflecting in his glasses.

Jason nudged him. "Dude."

Arnon blinked. "Huh?"

"You're still thinking about the virus, aren't you?"

Arnon hesitated. "Yeah. It's weird, Jason. The patterns don't make sense."

Jason leaned back. "You really think it's targeted?"

Arnon exhaled. "I don't know. But it doesn't feel random."

Jason tapped his fingers against the table. "We'll probably have to log in again later, huh?"

"Oh, for sure," Arnon muttered. "It's gonna be a long night."

After finishing their meal, they wandered toward the riverbank, the water reflecting the city lights in fractured patterns.

Jason spotted something by his foot-a smooth, flat stone, shaped perfectly for skipping.

He reached down at the same time Arnon did.

They both paused.

Arnon narrowed his eyes. "Rock-paper-scissors for it?"

Jason grinned. "Obviously."

They played. Jason won.

Grinning triumphantly, he traced his fingers along the stone's surface, noticing a thin, almost imperceptible groove running through it-like a single strand of hair embedded in rock.

He barely had time to register the oddity before launching the stone. It skipped once, twice-six times before vanishing beneath the water's surface.

Jason turned to Arnon, arms crossed smugly.

Arnon scowled. "I would have pitched 8 noob."

Jason laughed, ruffling Arnon's hair just to be annoying. "The universe has spoken, my friend."

As the group made their way back through the dimly lit streets, Jason stretched, feeling the warmth of the night air against his skin.

Some 50 metres behind them, a hooded figure of human stature stood motionlessly looking at them.

A breath of wind, a shift in the shadows-then it or rather they were gone.