The sun was setting, casting long, golden shadows over the pavement, but Comsen didn't mind the encroaching dark. In fact, he was practically vibrating with energy, humming a tuneless song as he dodged through the evening foot traffic.

  ?Today was a glorious day. Today was payday.

  ?“Alright,” Comsen mused, a wide grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “First stop: the bakery for that strawberry cake Sis has been eyeing. Then, maybe those new sweaters for Mom and Dad. If I have enough left over, I might even treat myself to a decent meal that doesn't come out of a plastic cup.”

  ?He was halfway to the shopping mart where he spent his nights stocking shelves and dealing with grumpy customers. It was a humble life, but it was his life, and he was determined to climb his way up, one paycheck at a time.

  ?He was just crossing the intersection near the mart when the world suddenly turned into a roar of grinding metal and screeching rubber.

  ?A massive, overloaded truck was barreling down the narrow street, weaving erratically as if the driver was fighting a losing battle with the steering wheel. It wasn't slowing down. If anything, it seemed to be accelerating.

  ?Comsen’s heart leaped into his throat. "What the hell?! Who drives like that, you bastard?!"

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  ?Adrenaline surged. He didn't freeze; he moved. He threw his body toward the sidewalk, a desperate attempt to put distance between himself and the wall of steel.

  ?But the universe had other plans. As if drawn by a magnet, the truck swerved sharply, the tires screaming as it jumped the curb.

  ?BOOM!

  ?The impact was a dull, heavy thud that stole the air from his lungs. Comsen felt himself being tossed through the air like a discarded ragdoll. He hit the pavement, bounced, and finally came to a halt as the truck slammed into a nearby brick building with a bone-jarring crunch.

  ?Everything was red. Everything was cold.

  ?Comsen lay on the asphalt, his breath coming in ragged, wet hitches. He looked down at his shattered body, the sight of his own blood staining the road feeling strangely distant.

  ?“Bullshit...” he thought, his mind racing even as his vision began to blur. “I haven't done anything yet. I haven't reached the top. I haven't even given my sister that cake. I can’t die here... not like this.”

  ?He tried to yell, tried to claw his way back up, but his limbs were lead. The "Top" he had always dreamed of reaching seemed further away than ever.

  ?Around him, a crowd began to form. But they didn't reach for his hand or call for an ambulance. Instead, a sea of glowing smartphone screens rose into the air. Some were filming his final moments; others were posing for selfies with the wreckage in the background.

  ?A surge of pure, icy fury flared in Comsen’s chest.

  ?"You... you bastards..." he wheezed, his voice a mere shadow of a sound. "Take me to the... hos..."

  ?The words failed him. The light in the streetlamps flickered and faded as his eyelids grew heavy. With a final, lingering look of absolute unwillingness and unspoken curses, Comsen’s world went dark.

  ?The climb was over. Or so he thought.