I couldn't sleep.
Not after what happened.
The ceiling of my small, dim apartment stared back at me with the same kind of indifference I saw on those scouts' faces earlier. But tonight, even the silence had tension in it. The kind that pricks your skin like static. My mind was stuck—looping, cycling, spiraling.
The crowd's cheer echoed.
That goal.
That goal.
It wasn't possible. It just wasn't. But I saw it. I played it—seconds before it happened.
And it mirrored mine exactly. Position, timing, angle. The same damn volley. Like the universe decided to play my button presses in real life.
My fingers twitched like they were still holding the phone.
Coincidence?
Sure. Let's go with that.
Except it didn't feel like coincidence. It felt... orchestrated.
I turned my head toward the desk where my phone sat, charging slowly. The soft red pulse of the battery indicator felt like it was mocking me. Come on, just sleep. Get some rest. Be normal.
But you know how curiosity works.
