Life is exhausting. If there was a universal truth I had learned in my nineteen years of existence, it was exactly that.
I let out a long, soul-deep sigh as I walked out of the university gates. The scorching afternoon sun beat down on the pavement, but I didn't care. My final college exams were officially over. No more cramming useless formulas into my brain at 3:00 AM.
No more living off stale ramen and energy drinks that tasted like battery acid. For the next two months, my schedule consisted of exactly three things: sleeping, gaming, and aggressively ignoring anything that resembled hard work.
I popped my headphones over my ears, the noise-canceling feature instantly drowning out the annoying chatter of my fellow students and the blaring traffic of the city.
Pulling out my phone, I opened up Netflix. Now, did a broke college student like me actually pay for a premium streaming subscription? Absolutely not. I had acquired this account through the noble art of negotiation.
My friend Mark had been begging me for some "reading material," so I generously traded him a curated list of top-tier, highly 'cultured' web novels featuring dual-cultivation Daoists in exchange for his password. A fair trade, honestly.
"Alright, let's see what the hype is about," I muttered, scrolling to a show my friends hadn't stopped annoying me about all week.
Modern Family.
According to them, it was a masterpiece of comedy. According to me, it looked like a cheesy sitcom about rich suburbanites. But, I was too lazy to search for a new anime, so I hit play on Season 1, Episode 1: The Pilot.
As I walked down the bustling sidewalk, my eyes were glued to the screen. I had to admit, five minutes in, and it was actually pretty hilarious. There was this guy, Phil, claiming he knew all the dances from High School Musical and calling himself a "cool dad." The sheer secondhand embarrassment I felt watching him try to act hip with his kids was pure gold.
Then there was his son, Luke, a goofy kid who managed to shoot his own sister with a BB gun, only for the dad to accidentally shoot the kid later.
"Idiots," I snorted, a genuine laugh escaping my lips. "This family is a complete mess. Who even acts like this in real life?"
I was so engrossed in the silly, cheesy drama playing out on my little screen that I completely tuned out the real world. I didn't notice that my feet had carried me to the edge of the sidewalk. I didn't notice the pedestrian traffic light glowing a solid, warning red while the vehicle light shone a bright, vibrant green.
I just kept walking, chuckling as Phil Dunphy tripped over a step on my screen.
BEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
A sound so loud it vibrated through my noise-canceling headphones pierced my skull. It wasn't just a honk; it was the booming roar of a massive airhorn.
Annoyed, I pulled my headphones down around my neck and looked to my left.
My heart instantly stopped. The blood drained from my face, and an icy chill shot down my spine.
Not even thirty feet away, an absolutely massive, eighteen-wheeler delivery truck was barreling straight toward me. It was overspeeding, blowing completely past the speed limit. The grill of the truck looked like the gaping maw of a mechanical beast, and I was standing right in the middle of the zebra crossing like a deer caught in the headlights.
Oh, crap. Pure, unadulterated terror flooded my system. Adrenaline exploded in my veins, overriding my usually lazy brain. I didn't think; I just reacted. With a panicked yelp that sounded embarrassingly like a dying seagull, I pushed off my back foot and launched myself forward.
I sprinted across the asphalt with a speed I didn't know I possessed, diving into the opposite lane and rolling onto the hard pavement.
The roaring engine of the truck blasted past my previous location.
I lay flat on the ground, gasping for air, feeling my heart hammering against my ribcage like a trapped bird. "Hah... hah... Holy shit," I wheezed, staring up at the blue sky. "I'm alive. I actually dodged it. I am safe."
I let out a massive sigh of relief, wiping cold sweat from my forehead.
But then, the screeching of heavy tires echoed through the street.
I tilted my head back, looking upside down.
Through some divine joke, some twisted 'God's Plan', the truck driver—who must have been asleep at the wheel or having a medical emergency—had suddenly slumped heavily over his steering wheel. The massive vehicle violently swerved. It didn't correct its course; it turned sharply, violently, jumping the median.
It was now heading directly for the opposite lane. Directly toward my face.
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. The truck was mere inches away. The massive metal bumper eclipsed the sun, casting a shadow over my paralyzed body.
Are you actually kidding me? I cursed internally, my eyes widening in pure disbelief. How the hell did this Truck-kun not see me? Is it sleeping? Does it have homing missiles equipped?! I already dodged! This is cheating!
Those were my final, incredibly annoyed thoughts before—
BAM!
The impact was absolute. I didn't even feel pain, just a sudden, overwhelming force that picked me up like a ragdoll. I was beautifully, tragically thrown through the air in a perfect parabolic arc.
And then... oops. Everything went completely, endlessly dark.
Soft.
That was the first sensation that registered in my brain. Something incredibly soft was pressing against my cheek.
Warm.
Thick, comfortable blankets were wrapped snugly around my body, smelling faintly of lavender fabric softener.
My groggy mind slowly started to boot up. Wait a minute, I thought, my brow furrowing without opening my eyes. My dorm bed feels like a concrete slab covered in sandpaper. And my roommate hasn't washed his sheets since last semester. Why does it smell so nice?