2Ep.. Cold Coffee

He let go of the curtain.

The fabric fell back, hiding the alley. His back was soaked in cold sweat. That umbrella-less face, staring up at him, was burned behind his eyelids.

After a long while pressed to the wall, he finally lifted the curtain again.

The alley was gone. Just the usual view—a streetlight, the recycling bins, the dark windows of the next building. No rain, no neon, no one.

…Was it a dream?

Morning came, ordinary as a lie. He woke the tablet—and there was the alley, every streak of rain still saved. Not a dream.

But that wasn't the strange part. He couldn't remember what he'd eaten last night. A corner of the day was missing, as if cut out with scissors.

Then his phone buzzed. A comment had appeared on last night's episode.

Author, I know this alley. But… it's a place that was never supposed to exist.

He had shown this alley to no one. He had just pulled it from his head. And she knew it? Knew it was a place that did not exist?

His heart raced again. Beside the fear, a small, wicked impulse rose. Was it real? If he drew it… would it happen?

His eyes fell on last night's cold coffee. Siu picked up the pen and drew a cup with steam curling up—not as a joke, but in earnest. He wanted something warm.

Steam rose from the cup. He cupped it in his hands. Hot. Real. He laughed—and at the end of the laugh, a chill crawled up.

And in that instant, somewhere in his mind emptied again, without a sound. The last person he had called yesterday… who was it?

In the black, dead monitor, his own face was reflected. A stranger. As if seen for the first time.

The phone trembled briefly. A message from Hari.

Author… are you forgetting things, by any chance?

Siu slowly raised his head to the window. Under the streetlight, that person stood again. One step—closer than last night.