Part 5

Here we are—home sweet home. Everything looks futuristic and clean, nothing like the worn streets I remembered. People scatter in different directions, while I stay close to Toby, Renée, and Pearl. They tell me they're heading home but will text once they arrive. For me, daylight still lingers, so I decided to explore before returning.

At the bus stop, a sleek, hi‑tech bus pulls up—nothing like the ones I remembered before being frozen three years ago. I greet the driver and take a seat by the window, watching the city glide past.

I pull out my phone, searching the news from the years I missed. The headlines sting: the explosion. Only a small percentage survived. Many were injured. Too many died. It was the last thing I remembered before being frozen. My chest tightens as I think of my family and friends, clinging to hope they survived. I don't want to believe otherwise.

I shake off the heaviness and text the girls: "Hey, did you make it home safely?" Then Toby: "Were you able to get back, okay?"

The city outside surprises me—no rundown buildings, no homeless crowds, and everything spotless. Jobs, housing, entertainment... I'll judge those later. For now, it feels refreshing.

A ping: Toby replies, "I'm home alone, but safe. Hope you are too." I smile faintly, reassure him, then step off near the library. Inside, the modern lounge and coffee shop feel inviting. I wander until a poetry book catches my eye. Settling into a chair, I sink into its comfort, grateful for a moment of peace as the sun dips low.