I'm standing on the edge.

Before me lays a bottomless void, behind me the city of decay is sleeping in its rot. It's a clear-cut line, the houses are just cut off if part of the city has fallen into the void.

There's no one around, it's just me. Lost…

I'm lost.

If I take a step forward, I will be consumed by the void, I'll be gone. Peace at last. But I hesitate. There is nothing in this void, no thought, no feeling, but also… no comfort, no warmth. It's just nothingness.

I squint my eyes, trying to see the end, trying to see what lies beyond the void. Is there anything at all?

I turn just enough to see the city over my shoulder. It's towering, intimidating, repelling. It doesn't want me.

But weirdly… I want it. It's been home for so long, the center of my life, everything I ever knew. Looking up one of the tall buildings I see a light burning in one of the apartments.

It's Thomas' apartment.

It doesn't make sense.

I see shadow figures behind the milky glass. Thomas' silhouette is unmistakable. I would recognize it everywhere. The short hair he tries to comb back whenever it just wants to bend out of shape due to his natural curls. His hair is so short that the ends twist and turn and there is nothing he can do about it.

I've heard him mumble to himself so many times when he tried to get the chaos that is his hair under control. The mere thought gives me a little warmth. That's Thomas, alright? I wouldn't change a thing about this man.

As if he reads my thoughts, his silhouette is combing his hair, just to be interrupted by his lovely wife. She's a gem unlike any other. I believe they met when he was recovering from the black fog. She was one of the nurses taking care of him.

We never talked about it, but once in a while, I do catch some bits and pieces of information at the station – if it's about people I care.

Huh…

I care about Thomas.

Funny, isn't it? I have such a hard time admitting it, but I really do care. Losing Thomas would feel familiar, like losing a parent all over again.

I watch this play of shadows, how she puts her hand on his shoulder, taking the comb from his hand to attend to the chaos on his head. And slowly but surely, she gets it under control. It's lovable to see how grateful he is.

It's not his fate, I can't see it, but I see his body relax, his shoulder slumping down in defeat of his hair, and rises back up in confidence. I see the way he embraces her, thankful. Not just for her help, but for her sole existence.

Is this what love is supposed to look like?

She breaks loose from the embrace, just to pick up their little baby girl, sandwiching her right between them for another hug, I can hear her giggles.

It baffled me. The one time I met his family, I mean. Despite this city and the society we live in, Thomas and his wife managed to raise a radiant little girl. She called me funny that day and giggled right into my face, with half her teeth missing.

I couldn't admit it, let alone show it back then, but looking at her I wanted her to keep this spirit. I felt annoyed but deep down I wanted to hear her giggle. This illusion of a world where things can be alright. The illusion that this city isn't out to drown every spirit.

The light goes out, Thomas and his family vanish into the dark, and I hear a squeaking laugh. I look around, but I can't see her – and I don't have to. I know it's the laugh of Miss Amber. As annoying as her voice is, and as much as I can't handle her high-pitched voice, right now her laugh feels reassuring.

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Despite everything her spirit has never been tainted. If she struggles in her personal life she doesn't show it. She comes to work every evening with her best self. Maybe her life is as grim as mine, maybe she forces herself to be happy and uplifting the moment she enters the station, knowing fully well how hard our work often is.

But maybe… She's just like that. Maybe she is proof that a somewhat normal life is possible. Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

It's silent again and I take a deep breath. The smell of freshly baked pastries fills my nostrils, and I close my eyes. I know this smell. Even if Mrs. Sinclair doesn't bring anything to work the smell accompanies her. It's a love letter to her hobby and her skills.

I know why she bakes a lot, and I feel it pulling at my heartstrings, but at the same time, there is deep appreciation. She could just hoard all the goods at home, she could bring them to the market, trying to make some money with them.

But without a second thought, she'll bring it to the station every time. I never thought about it that way, but maybe it lifts her spirit seeing us enjoy her pastries and cakes. If she bakes when her spirit is low, maybe it's us rebuilding her without even knowing it. I taste this sour aftertaste from my mouth that crept up whenever I ate whatever she brought to the station.

Knowing what I know it was hard to enjoy her gifts, it was proof of her struggles, and eventually, I had a hard time even looking at the sweet delights she brought us. Maybe I hurt her even further with it.

With the smell still lingering, I hear voices and lighthearted banter in the back. I hear the Morell siblings. I can't make out their words, but I don't have to. I can hear Andrew's boastful voice and Nancy's lecturing tone. It's a slow back and forth, with Andrew's confidence slowly crumbling under her strict demeanor, and suddenly they laugh.

I remember… I never paid attention to their words, but I remember I heard their voices just as I do now, back at the station several weeks ago. I didn't care enough to engage, but I remember the lingering feeling their sudden laughter left me with. It's care. Love. Love only siblings will ever be able to experience it. Love I can't relate to.

I couldn't pin down that feeling, this annoyance I felt. I wanted them to shut up, so I left. But…

I was jealous.

No matter how grim this city is they have each other. And if nothing bad ever happens, they'll always have each other.

I have no one. My only escape lies in alcohol and cigarettes to numb my senses while I give my body to a man I came to hate. There never was anyone watching my back, looking out for me, caring for me.

No.

That's not true.

Thomas cared. The doctor did. Miss Amber did. Mrs. Sinclair did. Dorothy, bless her heart, did. I think… maybe even the Morell siblings did.

I open my eyes and hold my breath. The void in front of me has grown, the tips of my toes are already over the edge. I hear a faint voice, the low, soothing vibration of the bass. Blue shimmering specks start to appear. They are so dim I almost can't see them, but they slowly grow brighter.

"I care."

A low voice in the distance.

My eyes are caught by the mesmerizing scene that unfolds. The void lays beneath my feet, ever-growing, but so are the blue stars all around me. And the closer I look, the more I realize: They are no stars.

They are blue petals. Hundreds of them. Covering the void in what I imagine a night sky full of stars looks like.

Is this the point where I have to make a decision? Fall into the void and be gone forever? Feeling nothing ever more? Or do turn? Face the hurt, but also the people living in this city?

I feel the suffocating heat in my throat that pushes the tears into the corners of my eyes. I'm not ready to make that choice.

"His heart rate is sinking. Wake him up."

Is this… the doc's voice? It feels so distant, so far away. I'm sorry doc. I can't… I wish I could but I don't feel ready to face the pain. I don't feel ready to face him.

I feel the fall. But it is slow, dream-like even. Oh, right, I've been dreaming all along, haven't I? This city right here… It's not real. Nor is the void beneath. But it still is a decision I have to make. It feels so much easier to just fall. To give up.

I feel warm all of a sudden. Is this what death feels like? A warm embrace to tuck me in, to give me a feeling of comfort?

…

…

No.

This is not death. Because, despite everything, I don't want to die. I can't just go without knowing. I need to know. I always needed to know. It's been the one red lining in my life – Answers.

I stopped in my fall as if frozen still. I'm facing the void as I open my eyes again. The whole scene seems to shift around me. It's not a bottomless pit anymore.

I feel like I am standing up straight, but when I look back I see the city tiled. It feels like I didn't fall, but the city and the void rotated, and now the pit became a portal. I can't fall, but I can walk.

But I don't. I stay still.

From the void emerges a short figure. It's hard to see but the closer it gets, the better I can distinguish the black void from the just as black hood. It's the doctor, no doubt.

Funny, I always thought he looked like death. Swift and silent on his feet, covered by layers of fabric to hide his pale skin and piercing eyes. I… I never paid much attention to it. But the doctor is unlike any other person I have ever met in this city.

But I felt too numb to think about it. He did the right thing, saving lives. I never questioned him, nor his person. But right now I feel like I should have.

Just…

Who are you, Doctor? Are you really death itself?

"Eon, wake the fuck up. This is not over yet."