The clock ticked louder than it should have.

Theo lay sprawled across the cold floor of his apartment, watching the second hand drag itself around the clock face in slow, exhausted circles.

The room was dim despite the afternoon sun. Threadbare curtains covered the windows, and the lone lamp beside his couch barely held back the shadows. The air smelled faintly of dust and the instant ramen he had abandoned on the counter hours ago.

Another wasted afternoon.

Another day spent existing rather than living.

He should have gone to class. He should have called one of his brothers. He should have at least walked to the corner store and bought something that did not come in a plastic cup.

But his body had stopped cooperating with him years ago.

The seizures arrived like storms without warning, leaving him weak, confused, and humiliated. Sometimes he woke in an ambulance. Sometimes on a hospital floor. Once, he had regained consciousness beneath a table in the college library while a dozen strangers stared at him.

His doctors had never given him anything more useful than shrugs and prescriptions.

“Some form of epilepsy,” they said.

“We’ll try another medication.”

None of them worked for long.

At twenty-two, Theo had spent more time in emergency rooms than classrooms. His friends had gradually stopped inviting him places. His professors had become less sympathetic with every absence.

Even his family had grown accustomed to hearing him say he was fine.

He was not fine.

He was tired.

Then the aura struck.

A sickening vibration began behind his eyes. A metallic taste spread across his tongue, sharp as blood. The ticking clock blurred, and the room tilted sideways.

Not again.

Theo tried to push himself upright.

His arm collapsed beneath him.

The phone lay only a few feet away, but the distance might as well have been miles. His muscles locked. His heart stumbled painfully in his chest.

Usually, he knew the seizures would pass.

This one felt different.

He opened his mouth to call for help, but only a ragged gasp escaped.

His vision shattered into fragments.

The lamp.

The clock.

The ceiling.

Then darkness began creeping inward from the edges.

This is the end.

The realization should have terrified him.

Instead, a strange calm settled over his mind.

There would be no one beside him. No dramatic final words. No hand to hold. His body would be found hours—or perhaps days—later.

He could already imagine the headline.

Young Man Dies Alone in Apartment.

Theo’s body convulsed against the floor.

Yet his final emotion was not anger.

It was exhaustion.

At least I can rest now.

The floor disappeared beneath him.

And Theo fell into darkness.