Life Without a Genre.

The usual view unfolded in front of the man's eyes.

It was a familiar sight of a blurred red sun enveloped by the disgusting grey sky.

As he walked aimlessly again a sharp stench struck his nose.

Though the ground in front of his foot was clean, the unknown rotten stench that had been following him was still present at all times.

Ignoring the rotten stench, he continues walking on his path.

Even if he didn't want to admit it, in the current dystopian world such things had become quite common.

"Yeah!" "Hahaha!"

From time to time, excited screams and loud laughter of humans were still audible in such a hopeless world.

Despite the world being close to its end, the human mind was still able to find a single speck of optimism in it.

Every time he thinks about that, his thoughts always wander into forming a group but his steps shake before reaching another person.

"Yeah, I cannot trust any strangers here. They can't even survive by themselves so they'll just weigh me down."

He instantly makes excuses and turns around from the noise.

In the midst of his regular day in this world, the man thinks of a twisted question.

"Is this something like 'true freedom'?"

His words were ironic, considering he partly believed them to be true.

He or anyone else in this world was not a slave of anything here, not a puppet bound by expectations, responsibilities or even law.

But with this freedom of being able to commit every action, his mind had become more focused on his objectives.

*Crack* *Crack* *Crack*

A familiar sound fell upon his ears. The sound identical to that of shattering glass.

Slowly raising his head, he looks at the grey sky and the ominous cracks forming on its surface.

"Shade…"

"Up… Shade…"

What?

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

"Wake up Shade! Are you planning to sleep till noon today?"

Hearing the familiar voice of a girl and the loud knocking on his door, Shade sits up straight on his bed.

Around him were the walls of his room.

"What was I dreaming about again?" He mutters to himself trying to remember the dream.

Grey sky, loneliness… again?

It happened again, he dreamt about something and forgot. 

After being abruptly woken up, his eyes fell on his phone right beside him turned on with time showing 7:03 a.m. and - [Deleted Article].

Letting out a sigh after realising the truth, he opens his door in rage.

"Can you tell the time? Or have you forgotten?" 

He stares at the sight of his sister standing outside his room while using her phone.

"Here." Saying that his sister hands him an unopened letter.

He looks at the letter for a few seconds with utter confusion and then back at her as if seeking for an explanation.

"A letter came to your name yesterday but I forgot to give it to you."

"Are you serious?"

"I already handed it to you so don't complain." She says and walks away, leaving the door of his room wide open.

She stole a letter that came for me yesterday and disturbed my sleep this morning just to inform me about her yesterday's theft? 

With a wide smile, he suppresses his anger and slowly closes the door. 

She may be a genius at being annoying. 

He was already disturbed slightly because of his dream now the letter was just an addition.

It wasn't the first time after all. 

As back as he could remember, he had always experienced a few similarly weird dreams from time to time now.

Not even once the dream was an exciting or an adventurous one, each time he felt uneasy after dreaming.

It wasn't something horrifying either, if he had to describe it, it would be closer to an empty dream than a nightmare.

Maybe because I'm just living an uneventful life?

His regular days include nothing special or even an average amount of experiences in them.

Things such as youth and adventure were foreign concepts to him.

Most of his time outside of school was spent at home, on rare occasions it was done in libraries or other quiet places.

This wasn't because of his family being strict or his lack of freedom in any sense but it was his own choice.

If a person was given a genre by their personality, he wouldn't be given one.

Shade's life could not be assigned a genre, as the stagnancy would devour a story.

He thinks about it slightly but shrugs at the mystery of his dream and changes his gaze to the letter.

An unexpected letter to his name was a rare occurrence after all, it could either be from the committee he was part of or an exam's result he had completely forgotten about. 

Reading the letter he finds out the letter came from one of his closest acquaintances, Camille. 

Just a few months ago both of them were neighbours before Shade's family moved away.

Their families were still quite close, even after months, she frequently came to visit them. 

Aside from Camille there was another person who was very close to Shade.

Because of him, Shade curiously reads through the letter with a hint of excitement.

The letter was fairly long, but all he could comprehend in that long letter was -

"Chandler died in an accident four days ago..."

Th.. I.. WHAT?! 

Words stuck in his throat.

He couldn't utter a word or react at that moment. 

Stunned at the ridiculous revelation, he read it again and again and again.

Even if he read the whole letter countless more times he couldn't believe the words written on it.

To Shade, it was an event he could never have been ready to face in his entire life but now it had suddenly struck him suddenly. 

Chandler was Camille's older brother and the person closest to Shade. 

From a young age Shade had admired him, respected him and most importantly he was the only person Shade had ever considered his friend.

Encountering such a situation so out of the blue, he couldn't even imagine the expression he had on his face, regardless he was sure that it was a grim one.

After a minute or two passed, he came back to his senses. 

Reading the letter again he tries to grasp the situation further.

Just four days ago, Chandler had died in a car accident. 

According to the letter, Chandler had a few things he wanted to pass on to Shade but after the shocking event, she wants to deliver them as his last will.

Slowly he drops his upper body on the bed.

His throat felt completely dried up, he was just barely out of bed so he still had an entire day ahead but his mind felt heavy and unmotivated.

There was some sadness lingering in his mind but his eyes never teared.

Looking at the ceiling of his room he silently thought about the long day ahead of him.