What seems to make sense becomes the reason it doesn’t.

Everything makes sense, but there’s always a problem. I always thought there’s nothing I wouldn’t understand.

So maybe let’s just get back to making the photo album, shall we?

I’ve been looking at a couple of abandoned places where I can feel like I belong. Gary and I talked about five things I’d be looking forward to if I happened to live long enough: a proper education, a stable job, a partner and a dog, and most importantly—being the man.

Gary deserved every cent he was paid. He got me to open up, oversharing basically everything except my credit card 

password. People tend to spill over when they haven’t spoken to anyone in a while.

Oh yeah—cutting back. I kind of went off there, didn’t I?

Neo Tiew Estate, yes, I was supposed to go there. It’s locked.

But somehow I still find myself sitting among a pile of broken-down aftermath. The air smells of burning joss paper.

The sky is blurred, gray.

Just like every other time—not a living soul. Can people sense death? Because I’ve noticed strangers tend to keep their distance from me, unintentionally.

I doodled the still-standing flat, shading the darkest parts, when I felt someone behind me.

I didn’t turn around. Something told me it was better to ignore it.

“Great to see you again!”

Wait—what?

I answered, unsure, but what could I lose?

“I’m glad to see you too, Daniel. Still being around and all.”

I can recognize my own voice, no matter how deep it got. I believe that’s myself, standing behind me. But still, I didn’t look back.

He stepped forward and sat beside me.

I was about to shut my travel log so he wouldn’t see, but he probably already knew everything—even the pages I hadn’t written yet.

He looked about twenty-five (I could be off by decades, judging from, well… myself). Still short. A little taller than me, but probably no more than the height of an average seventh-grader. Fully suited. Long pants.

“I figured we’d need to be in those pants sooner or later.”

Still, I only gave a glance from the corner 

of my eye. I didn’t look up, just shaded harder with the pencil.

“You will, Daniel…”

I dropped the pencil. No—I slapped it down.

“Nope. I died, February 2026, remember?”

As much as I wished this man was me, there’s no way. Not enough possibility I’d actually make it.

I know how stupid it sounds, as the future me is right in front of me, but let’s not ignore the fact there might be different timelines at play.

He stared at me for a good seven seconds. Not the up-and-down kind—just a solid, unblinking stare.

Then he laughed. “You’re still into that show, aren’t you?”

Well duh. I’m in knee socks.

“So am I,” he sighed, though he seemed happy.

“We all know how much you like to ‘die,’ but 

in none of the timelines do you actually die here. Maybe later, but not here.”

Smartass. I’ll prove him wrong.

“Doesn’t matter. This one died.”

I closed the book. My eyes fixed on the ground, where two pairs of black leather shoes stood side by side—one polished, the other drained in white dust.

Then we just sat in silence. For God knows how long.

He knew he wasn’t going to change my mind.

And I knew he knew that.

“Still stubborn, huh?”

“You don’t say.”

I chuckled. He could be right—he’s from the future, after all.

But I knew what it meant: living years that barely counted as living. After now. After today. Yes, he was cool as hell. I was glad that was me. But what it took to get there… 

too dark to look at.

“So what? Two of myself together in one place? Isn’t there supposed to be homicidal rage?”

He’d get the reference.

“Do you want to kill me?”

I’d probably lose the fight to him in every way.

“I want to kill myself every second. So yes, technically I do want to kill you.”

But… “Does that make sense?”

I wasn’t sure what I wanted from this.

He stood up.

“You’re a little more conscious than the others. Just a tiny bit. Don’t flatter yourself.”

How could I not after hearing that?

“I talked to you when you were ten. Guess what that dumbass said?”

“I want to be a dog?”

We both yelled it, in perfect un-rehearsed 

sync. Then broke out laughing.

“I’m really glad yo—”

“Daniel?”

He was gone.

I’m pretty sure it was a dream. My travel log didn’t have the doodles. The place is locked—locked. Not even a cat could get in.

Oh great, I have to work tonight.

Newt was sneezing like a cracked water cooler.

The floor was covered in a layer of white dust, the air just as misty. I could see the dust floating under the lamppost.

The whole Woodland street lined with burning incense, lighting up the paths. The air smelled like a candle store.

Dark figures in the distance held up burning joss paper and set down plates of rice cakes at the roadside. Beautiful, in the most ordinary way.

“Is it okay that I have a minute, Newt?”

That night I dreamed again—this time aware of it. I wanted to see future Daniel.

Even though I acted like I secretly hated him the last time, he’d understand.

This time I was sitting on Keppel House’s stairs. Again. A place locked in real life, but untouchable in my dream.

Still doodling, writing.

Footsteps. Someone climbing the stairs.

Wait. That’s not him.

A young female? Ew—girl in my dream? Daniel, you suck.

I stared at her. Why is she here? Where’s DANIEL?

She looked like an awkward bald broomstick named Nerd.

“Ha-have we met?”

I don’t know. Have we?

“Yes, we met here.”

What was that, Daniel?

Shut up, Daniel. I got this.

The girl hugged a book—very much like my travel log—tighter, like I was about to rob her.

“But it’s my first time here.”

You weren’t supposed to be here!

“So am I. But in this same place, somehow, somewhere, our consciousness met.”

I didn’t quite understand. She looked even more confused.

“Oh… okay.”

She walked past me, skipping steps.

I didn’t look up. For two seconds.

When I did—she was gone.

Her name was Eunice, wasn’t it?

Okay, maybe she was supposed to be here. I still didn’t welcome her.

I actually went to Keppel House the next morning, just for the vibe. Maybe I’d find something.

As soon as I walked in, an old security guard stopped me.

“Boy! What do you want?”

“Just take a look at the building.”

“CANNOT LAH.”

So we ended up having a pretty pleasant conversation about random things while he locked the gates and sent me a dozen photos of the house.

That was really nice of him. I accepted them with huge appreciation. But I didn’t need them. I lied about wanting to see the building for a school project. Because why else would a boy be there?

He told me about an abandoned water tank. I decided to check it out.

It wasn’t pretty, to say the least. I had to climb a seventy-eight-degree hill behind someone’s house, but I got there relatively smoothly. The place was spray-painted, covered in dust.

It felt haunted, not going to lie.

“But I have no use for haunted. I’m just 

soul-seeking peace and rest here. Hope you can understand that.”

I sat in the middle, slid my medical file under my butt, and took out my lunch—three hash browns and a carton of milk.

Been vegetarian three weeks now. Since then, potatoes have become a huge part of my diet. And as for the milk, there’s only a slim chance I’ll ever grow taller, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

Gary said I could try making new connections, but who’s gonna connect with me? It’s me, Daniel, you’re talking about!

Can I cry? I’m not just sad. It’s something I can’t explain—like holding back a laugh.

Is it okay if I have a minute?

Who are you asking, Daniel?