After finishing his quota for the day in programming, the idea of sitting around in his apartment didn't seem right. As he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't stop thinking about all of it–the apocalypse, the monsters he fought, the people he met.
Most of all–he thought of her.
'Fate, huh? Coming out of all of that, somehow, it would feel ignorant to outright deny it exists,' he pondered.
Turning over, he glanced at the clock on his bedside stand–[8:08 P.M]. Getting any sleep felt like an unreasonable task as he slid out of bed. He couldn't get her out of his head, nor the words of the reborn Creator–
'...If a thing like fate exists, then going out there–it's the right choice,' he thought.