The bus stop was only a block and a half away, not far in normal human-approved temperatures but a real slog when the air was made of daggers cutting at your cheeks and your mocos froze like icicles inside yours nostrils. Thankfully, Jorge was early and could take his time - only thing worse than waiting for a bus was barely missing one and having to wait for the next.
There was a flash across the sky, a brief brilliance of white followed by something unfurling a glittering tail falling among the starscape.
“Ma?” Amalia called out loudly into the void as she sat up in her bed. There was no response. Somewhere outside of the apartment, heavy steps descended a stairway. It wasn’t her.
This is a dry run. One of many. I know the path so well I can find in the pitch black of night. I have before. I won't last that long tonight, at least I don't think. But I don't know, I never know. Maybe this is not the dry run. Maybe this is the real thing. I can't know. I don't know my future self as well as I should. In truth I'm a little afraid of him. I have no assumptions on who he will be when I meet him in the depths of the grass.
“Hey lady!” The figure called out as they bridged the gap, coming close enough that Evelyn could almost make out human features. “Hey, I wouldn’t go that way if I were you. Some messed up shit back there.” It was a kid, a teenage boy, probably not even old enough to vote. He was walking fast now, just a little short of jogging, hood over his head, his face shadowed as he got closer.