The midday sun beat down on Tyler’s shoulders, the heat shimmering off the grimy asphalt of the city street.  He walked with a slump, his shoulders bowed under the weight of disappointment.  The crisp white envelope, still slightly creased from his nervous grip, felt heavy in his pocket – a tangible reminder of the rejection he’d just received.  Around him, the city throbbed with a chaotic energy:  the blare of car horns, the rhythmic thump of distant construction, the cacophony of a thousand conversations blending into a dull roar.  Yet, Tyler seemed oblivious to it all, lost in his own thoughts.  The buildings, a monotonous grey and brown, loomed over him like indifferent giants, their shadows stretching long and distorted in the harsh sunlight.  He passed overflowing trash cans, their contents spilling onto the sidewalk, a stark contrast to the meticulously manicured lawns visible through the wrought-iron fences of the wealthier neighborhoods further down the street.  His worn sneakers slapped against the cracked pavement, each step a small, defeated thud in the symphony of urban noise.  The air hung heavy with the smell of exhaust fumes, cheap takeout, and something vaguely floral from a wilting bouquet discarded in an alleyway.  His apartment building, a drab structure promising little comfort, was just a few blocks away, a destination offering only the bleak solace of solitude.

"Two months," he muttered to himself, the words catching in the back of his throat.  "Two months of applications, of interviews, of polite rejections.  And for what?  A certificate gathering dust on my shelf?  I aced that course, I really did.  Got top marks.  But all I've got to show for it is a mountain of debt and a whole lot of nothing."  He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, the crumpled rejection letter a painful reminder of his failure.  "Overseas… that job… it would have been perfect.  It was even an online position, but I still can't go there. The travel costs, the visa… it's all just too much right now.  Guess it's back to the construction sites, the back-breaking work, the pittance of a paycheck.  Another dead-end job.  Another step further into the hole."

He sighed, the sound lost in the city's clamor.  Then, he looked up.  Across the street, standing on the sidewalk near a brightly colored mural, was Sarah.  Her blonde hair, usually pulled back in a neat ponytail, was loose today, catching the sunlight.  A phone was pressed to her ear, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she spoke.  For a moment, Tyler forgot his woes, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her.  The disappointment, the frustration, the crushing weight of his job hunt – all of it faded into the background, replaced by a familiar flutter of nervous excitement.

The fleeting hope sparked by Sarah's presence died as quickly as it ignited. A sleek, black car pulled up to the curb, and a young man, roughly Tyler's age, stepped out.  He was impeccably dressed, radiating an effortless confidence that Tyler found both irritating and intimidating.  Sarah smiled, a bright, genuine smile that Tyler had only ever seen directed at him in fleeting moments, and climbed into the car.  It pulled away, leaving Tyler standing alone on the sidewalk, the sting of rejection sharper than before.

"She's one of those people," he muttered, bitterness lacing his voice.  "The kind who just… has it all.  Beautiful, successful, effortlessly charming.  Someone like me?  I stand no chance.  I'll probably end up alone, a bitter old man, cursing the day I was born.  Hell, I'm practically evil for even thinking I could ever have a chance with someone like her."

The self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by a hearty clap on his back.  He turned to see Mark, his friend, emerging from the convenience store nearby, a large soda in hand.  "Yo, Tyler," Mark grinned, his voice booming through the city's noise.  "Long time no see.  What's up?"  The hug that followed was surprisingly strong, a welcome distraction from the swirling vortex of Tyler's self-doubt.

Mike was a whirlwind of energy, even standing still.  He was Tyler's roommate, a fact Tyler sometimes regretted, and sometimes didn't. Mike was annoying, relentlessly optimistic to a sometimes maddening degree, and possessed a confidence that bordered on arrogance.  He talked incessantly, often about things that barely registered on Tyler's radar, but he was also a good friend, offering a much-needed distraction from Tyler's often bleak outlook.  And while Mike worked at the convenience store – a job that paid decently enough, not the poverty wages Tyler feared – his easy confidence was something Tyler envied.  Looking at Mike now, with his easy grin and that oversized soda in hand, Tyler felt a pang of something akin to resentment mixed with a grudging admiration.  "What's up?" Mike asked again, his voice still loud and cheerful, oblivious to the turmoil raging within Tyler.

Tyler sighed, the sound heavy with defeat. "Didn't get the job," he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his tired face.  Mike's grin faltered, replaced by a look of genuine sympathy.  "Aw, man, that sucks," he said, clapping Tyler on the shoulder again.  "But hey, don't sweat it. You'll nail it next time, I know you will.  I believe in you, dude."

Tyler felt a flicker of annoyance.  "You've been saying that for two months, Mike," he said, his voice flat.  "And nothing's changed."  He paused, then added, "Hey, is there any chance of a position opening up at the convenience store?  Maybe I could work with you."

Mike shrugged, his usual boundless optimism momentarily dimmed.  "I don't know, man.  Things have been pretty steady lately.  I'll ask the manager, but don't get your hopes up."

Tyler sighed again, a longer, more exasperated sigh this time.  "I'm just going home," he said, his voice weary.  "Gonna flop on the couch and try to forget about this whole mess for a while."

The apartment hit him like a wave of chaos the moment he stepped inside.  Clothes were strewn across the floor, dirty dishes piled high in the sink, and empty takeout containers littered the coffee table.  It was a familiar scene, a testament to Mike's… less-than-stellar housekeeping habits.  Tyler couldn't even remember the last time the place had been properly cleaned; it felt like a lifetime ago.  A wave of frustration washed over him, but he pushed it aside.  He wasn't in the mood for another argument with Mike, so he started cleaning.  He gathered the scattered clothes, scrubbed the dishes, and tossed the trash.  It took him nearly two hours, but eventually, the apartment was at least somewhat presentable.

Finally, he collapsed onto the couch, the worn cushions sinking under his weight.  The exhaustion was both physical and mental.  He groaned, rubbing his temples.  "What am I going to eat?" he muttered to himself.  The question hung in the air, unanswered for a while.  He eventually decided on something simple – ramen noodles – and set about preparing it.

By the time he finished eating, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the room.  Just as he was considering a shower, the door opened and Mike walked in, laden with grocery bags.  "Hey, man," Mike said, his voice a little quieter than usual, "Sorry about the mess.  I've been swamped at work."

"Swamped at work," Tyler thought, a cynical smile playing on his lips.  "That's what he always says."  He outwardly remained calm, however, helping Mike unpack the groceries and put them away.  The shared task, the quiet efficiency of it, eased some of the tension that had built up throughout the day.

After a quick shower, Tyler found Mike sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone.  "So," Mike began, looking up with a mischievous grin, "have you told Sarah you like her yet?"

Tyler's face flushed.  The question, so casual, so lighthearted, felt like a punch to the gut.  Embarrassment warred with annoyance.  "No," he mumbled, avoiding Mike's gaze.  "And even if I did, what's the point?  She's… she's out of my league."  He repeated the phrase, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.  "She's out of my league."  The repetition felt like a mantra, a desperate attempt to convince himself of a truth he didn't want to accept.

Mike, ever the optimist, clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, believe in yourself, man!  And besides," he added with a wink, "girls love bold guys. I should know."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "How would you know? I've never seen you with a girlfriend."

Mike grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes.  "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do.  Maybe I'm secretly living the life of a romance novel protagonist.  Maybe I have a hidden harem."

Tyler chuckled, the sound genuine and surprisingly relieving.  The tension, the weight of the day, seemed to lighten a little.  The absurdity of Mike's statement, the sheer ridiculousness of it, broke through the wall of self-doubt he'd built around himself.

Mike, seemingly sensing the shift in Tyler's mood, reached up and removed a small necklace he always wore – a delicate gold chain with a tiny, intricately carved golden flower pendant.  He held it up, turning it between his fingers.  "Here," he said, tossing the necklace to Tyler. "The Necklace of Luck.  Guaranteed to win you Sarah's heart."

Tyler caught the necklace, a skeptical expression on his face.  "This is stupid," he said, tossing it back. "I don't believe in luck."

Mike caught it, a smirk playing on his lips. "Why not?  It worked for my great-grandfather, his four wives, my grandfather, his two wives, and even my dad, with his... two." He threw it back again.

Tyler caught it, considering it for a moment. "Because I've never had any. Luck, I mean." He tossed it back to Mike.

"Wear it already," Mike said, snatching the necklace from the air and attempting to place it around Tyler's neck.  In their clumsy exchange, they both tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs and laughter.  When the dust settled, Tyler found the necklace already secured around his neck.

"If you take it off," Mike said, a playful glint in his eyes, "I'm eating all the ramen."

"Okay, okay," Tyler conceded. The tension of the earlier conversation had completely dissipated, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie.

The next morning, Mike woke with a whoop, grabbing his phone and practically leaping out of bed.  "WHOO! I got the job! I got the job!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the apartment.

Tyler, still groggy from sleep, sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What job?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

Mike, practically vibrating with excitement, waved his phone in the air.  "That one I applied for! The one that pays way more than the convenience store!  They called this morning – they accepted me! I'm starting next week!"  He was already halfway out the door, grabbing his keys and backpack.  "Gotta go!  So much to do!"

Tyler watched him go, a genuine smile spreading across his face.  A pang of envy, a familiar twinge of self-doubt, flickered through him, but it was quickly overshadowed by happiness for his friend.  Mike deserved this; he'd worked hard, and his unwavering optimism, even when things were tough, was finally paying off.  He was genuinely happy for Mike, even if a small part of him wished he could experience that kind of success himself. He went back to sleep. 

Tyler woke, the sunlight streaming through the window.  He showered, feeling the day's potential wash over him, a feeling strangely different from the previous days' despair.  Back in his room, he spotted the golden necklace lying on his bed.  He picked it up, turning the tiny flower pendant between his fingers.  Should he wear it?  A part of him scoffed at the idea – the whole thing felt ridiculous.  But another part, a small, hopeful part, whispered that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't hurt.  He slipped it on, the cool metal a comforting weight against his skin.

He decided on a walk, a route that would take him past the coffee shop Sarah frequented.  As he walked, the familiar nervousness returned, a flutter in his stomach.  He spotted the coffee shop, its windows displaying the tempting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries.  He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

There she was, sitting at her usual table by the window, her blonde hair catching the sunlight.  The years had been kind to her; she was even more beautiful than he remembered.  The memory of high school flooded back – Sarah, the most popular girl, seemingly untouchable, a figure from a different life.  He approached her table, his heart pounding a rhythm against his ribs.  "Sarah?" he asked, his voice a little shaky.

"Hi, Sarah," Tyler said, offering a tentative smile.

Sarah looked up, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?"

"Tyler," he replied, his smile faltering slightly.  "Tyler Evans."

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable.  "I... I don't think I remember you," she said, a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice.

"We went to high school together," Tyler offered, trying to keep his voice light.

A nervous laugh escaped Sarah's lips.  "Oh," she said, the word sounding a little strained.  She gestured to the chair opposite her. "Please, sit."

He sat down, noticing the subtle disappointment in her expression.  He tried to ignore it, focusing on keeping the conversation flowing.  The initial excitement he'd felt had dimmed considerably.  He cleared his throat.  "So... uh... what are you up to these days?" he asked, trying to sound casual.  "Still into photography?" he added, remembering a project she'd done in their art class.

"Actually, no," Sarah said, a little hesitantly. "I'm not really into photography anymore.  I'm… I'm in marketing now."  The conversation felt stilted, awkward.  Tyler struggled to find common ground, to bridge the gap between the girl he remembered from high school and the woman sitting across from him.  He tried to steer the conversation towards other shared memories, but they seemed to evaporate, leaving a void filled with uncomfortable silences.

Just as he was desperately searching for another topic, a familiar figure appeared at the edge of the table.  It was the man from the black car, the impeccably dressed young man who had whisked Sarah away on that previous afternoon.  "Babe, it's time to go," he said, his voice smooth and confident.

Sarah looked at Tyler, a flicker of something – perhaps guilt, perhaps pity – in her eyes.  "Hey, it was… nice to meet you, Tyler," she said, her tone polite but distant.  She stood up, her boyfriend already holding her chair.  She offered a quick wave before turning and walking away with him, leaving Tyler alone at the table.

A wave of disappointment washed over him, cold and crushing.  Embarrassment burned in his cheeks.  He hadn't even considered the possibility that she might have a boyfriend – a boyfriend who clearly had a much more impressive life than his own.  The image of Sarah in the car, the fleeting hope he'd felt that morning, now felt like a cruel joke.  His dreams, so fragile, so easily shattered.  Anger, sharp and bitter, began to simmer beneath the surface of his disappointment.  He hadn't even thought to consider that possibility.  He felt foolish, naive , and utterly defeated.

Back in his apartment, Tyler’s carefully constructed composure crumbled. Frustration, raw and potent, consumed him. He paced his room, the small space feeling claustrophobic, mirroring the suffocating weight of his disappointment.  His life, he thought, was a string of failures.  He shouldn't have gone to see Sarah; that encounter had only served to highlight the chasm between their lives.  And Mike, his friend, his roommate, was about to move on, leaving Tyler alone in this cramped, cheap apartment.  He’d come to this city, escaping his mother and his wealthier brothers, believing he could build a life for himself, a life of independence and success.  Instead, he’d found only disappointment.  He was the poor excuse for a son, the one his mother probably wished she’d never had.  The thought, bitter and self-deprecating, settled in his mind.  He was a burden, a failure, and the world would be better off without him.  The idea of death, of simply ceasing to exist, felt less like a terrifying prospect and more like a tempting escape from the crushing weight of his inadequacies.  He was a disappointment, and if he died, it would be less trouble for everyone.

With a surge of anger, Tyler ripped the necklace from his neck, the gold chain snapping against his skin. He slammed it onto the floor, the tiny golden flower pendant splitting in two with a sharp crack. He sank to the ground, burying his face in his hands, the frustration a physical ache in his chest.  Then, he saw it – a faint light emanating from the broken pendant, a soft, ethereal glow.  He blinked, thinking he was hallucinating, but the light persisted, growing brighter, more intense.  Confusion warred with a rising sense of unease.  What was happening?  This was insane.  Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through his despair.  He needed to get out of there, to escape this strange, unsettling light.

But as he tried to move, to stand, the light intensified, expanding, engulfing him in a blinding wave of energy.  The light intensified, a searing white that filled his vision.  Then, nothingness.  One moment he was in his apartment, the next he was... running.  His legs were pumping, his body propelled forward by the residual momentum of his desperate flight.  Before he could even register his surroundings, his face collided with something solid and unyielding.  A tree.  The impact knocked the air from his lungs; he tumbled to the ground, groaning.  He sat up, blinking rapidly, his head throbbing.  Gone was his cramped apartment; in its place was a dense forest, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something acrid and unpleasant.  Above, a brilliant blue sky stretched endlessly.  There were no buildings, no signs of civilization, just trees, stretching as far as the eye could see. He was utterly, completely lost. Panic, cold and sharp, clawed at the edges of his confusion. Where was he? How did he get here?