A Modern Regressor

A young man, around fifteen years old, was walking under the late afternoon sun, at that moment when the light turned golden and soft. The air was cool, still carrying traces of the day's heat, gently warming his skin. With each step, he seemed lost in his thoughts, his gaze drifting into the long shadows of the trees and the gentle breeze whispering through the leaves. Night was slowly approaching, but the sky still held warm hues, like the last breath of summer before the evening arrived.



Once at the entrance of his alley, he saw a car speeding toward him. He didn’t have time to react before he was thrown into the air. In those final moments of suffering and his last breath, he died—but...