Lost in the Light

Kyle trudged through the silent streets, his footsteps echoing against the cold pavement as he made his way to the park. It was late, and the world around him felt as empty as his soul. The park had become his refuge, a small corner of the city where he could disappear into the shadows, unnoticed and unbothered. His usual bench, worn and chipped from years of weather and time, awaited him like an old friend. Kyle's life had become a monotonous routine of wandering, surviving, and trying to forget. Being homeless was hard, but for someone as young as Kyle, it was devastating. Life had beaten him down early, and now, at 25, he felt as if he had lived a lifetime of sorrow.

The world through his eyes was no longer the vibrant, colorful place it once had been. It was grey, devoid of warmth or joy, and often, it felt black—cold and unforgiving. Every day bled into the next, the passing hours nothing more than a reminder of how far he had fallen. Even when he tried to summon a memory of better times, something good or happy from his past, his mind felt like a blank canvas. The weight of the present had suffocated everything else, and now all that existed was the relentless now, the heavy burden of each passing moment. He sat on his bench and surveyed the desolate park. Only the silhouettes of trees swayed in the gentle wind, casting ghostly shadows under the dim street lamps. The playground, usually filled with laughter and the gleeful shouts of children, was now an abandoned husk, empty swings creaking softly in the breeze.

The street lamps, their glow a sickly yellow, flickered on and off like a heartbeat slowing down, and Kyle found his eyes struggling to focus. The constant flickering blurred his vision, adding to the sense of unreality that followed him everywhere. Spring was coming; he could tell from the softer bite in the night air. Yet, the shift in seasons did nothing to lift his spirits. Even the prospect of warmer days couldn't break through the thick cloud of despair that hung over him.

In his hand, a half-eaten container of take-out sat cooling in the night air. He had bought it with cash he’d found in a wallet on the street earlier that day. Normally, a meal like this should be a victory, a small triumph in the daily battle for survival. But for Kyle, it all felt hollow. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not the food, not the park, not even the brief moments of respite he found here. He didn’t just need food or shelter. He needed a reason—a reason to keep going, to believe that something better might still exist for him in this unforgiving world.

As Kyle sat there, staring into the emptiness, burning pain shot through his forearm.

“Ah!” Kyle recoiled, clutching his arm but the pain had gone as fast as it came.

Kyle relaxed and stared again in the same spot. It was dark but he saw something flicker at the edge of his vision. He squinted, thinking it was just the unreliable streetlights again, but this was different. There, near the base of a bush just a few yards away, something shimmered—a glimmer of color that didn’t belong in the dull, muted world he inhabited. Kyle leaned forward, blinking rapidly, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The fluid, like a soap bubble, was floating through the air. It pulsed with iridescent hues—pink, blue, green—shifting and morphing in ways that made it seem both solid and transparent at the same time.

He froze, gripping the edge of the bench. His heart, which had been numb for so long, suddenly beat faster. The flickering colors danced in the night, appearing for a moment, then disappearing, only to reappear a second later. It was like nothing he had ever seen before—magical, almost. For the first time in years, Kyle felt something stir inside him. A strange sensation of curiosity, even excitement, welled up within him. What was it? Why was it here?

Without thinking, he snatched up his backpack and rose from the bench, his legs stiff. His heart pounded harder now, adrenaline surging through his veins. He took a few cautious steps toward the strange phenomenon, his mind racing. Was it real? Was he losing his grip on reality? He wasn’t sure, but something deep within him compelled him to approach, to see for himself.

As he drew closer, the colors became more vibrant, more defined. It hovered just above the ground. Kyle hesitated, mere inches away now, and he crouched down, his face at level with the glimmering surface. Inside, he saw movement—faint, like a shadow passing behind frosted glass. He leaned in further, squinting to make sense of what he was seeing.

Then, like a vision sharpening into focus, he saw it. Or rather, her. Inside the bubble or mirror or whatever it was, was a woman, standing behind a counter in what looked like a small café. She was dressed in a simple uniform, her hair neatly pulled back, a warm smile on her face as she served customers. Kyle blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, but the scene didn’t vanish. It was as real as the park around him.

“Impossible,” he muttered under his breath. His hands trembled as he reached out, instinctively wanting to touch the surface, to see if it would pop or vanish like the illusion he was certain it was. But before his fingers made contact, his foot caught on the uneven ground, and he tripped, tumbling headfirst into the thing. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he expected to crash against something solid or fall flat onto the grass. But instead, he found himself stumbling forward into... a café.

The world around him shifted like a dream suddenly snapping into clarity. Kyle blinked and looked up. The café he had seen in the bubble was no longer a distant image—it was all around him. The soft clatter of dishes, the murmur of conversation, the warm glow of lights—it was all real. He stood there, dumbfounded, his heart still racing, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

And there, standing behind the counter, was the woman he had seen—the waitress. She smiled at him, just as she had in the vision. Kyle stared at her, unable to speak. He had crossed into another world, one where everything was different, and yet... somehow familiar.

"Hi," she greeted, her voice as warm as the café itself. "Can I get you a coffee? Or better yet, a shower?”

Kyle stared at her. She smiled and waved her hands in a series of complicated gestures, looking intensely at him. Kyle felt a weird tingling in his face and then in his whole body. He looked at his hands and they were … clean. How could this be? He felt his hair… now it was shorter and in the style he used to wear it before ending up on the streets. What was happening…?

Kyle's heart raced. Was he hallucinating? He felt the aching in his legs from the long walk to the park, felt the heavy, familiar weight of his backpack slung over his shoulder. It was all too real for a dream, and yet.

"I... I'm sorry, I don't... I shouldn't be here," he mumbled, backing away slightly.

The woman tilted her head, a soft crease of concern forming on her brow. "You look lost."

Kyle couldn't help but let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

Her eyes softened further, and she gestured toward one of the café’s plush chairs by a large window. “Why don’t you sit down for a while? I’ll get you something to eat.”

The offer hit him hard. When was the last time anyone had been this kind to him? Suspicion flared up inside him—nothing was ever free, not in his world. But something about this place made him pause. He glanced at the pastries displayed behind glass and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit him again. His stomach growled involuntarily.

“I don’t have any money,” Kyle admitted, still unsure if this was real or not. “I’m not here to buy anything.”

The woman smiled again, this time with a hint of understanding. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you something warm.”

Against his better judgment, Kyle sat down. He settled into the chair, the soft fabric wrapping around him like a comforting hug. For the first time in years, he felt a flicker of comfort. He watched the people in the café—laughing couples, old friends chatting, a young man tapping away on his laptop. It all felt so normal, but… how had he ended up here?

A few minutes later, the waitress returned with a plate of warm bread and a bowl of soup. She placed it in front of him gently, her gaze steady. “Here. Eat.”

Kyle hesitated but finally reached for the bread, tearing off a piece and chewing slowly. It was simple, but the taste flooded his senses. He couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes. How long had it been since he’d had a meal that wasn’t scavenged, cold, or stolen? How long since he’d felt... human?

“Thank you,” he whispered.

The woman sat down across from him, her apron rustling as she adjusted herself in the chair. “You look like you’ve been carrying something heavy for a long time.”

Kyle frowned, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

She didn’t pry further, but there was something in her eyes—something that made him feel like she knew more than she was letting on.

“You’re not just a waitress, are you?” Kyle asked cautiously, looking at her more closely now. “I saw you through that... that thing.”

The woman’s smile faltered slightly, but she didn’t seem surprised. “I’m here to help you, Kyle.”

He froze. “How do you know my name?”

Her eyes twinkled. “I know a lot of things about you. About where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through.”

A cold shiver ran down his spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was something deeper—something that felt like being seen for the first time in a long while.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m just the person you need,” she said, her voice soft yet certain.

He wanted to protest, to tell her she didn’t know anything about him. But the words wouldn’t come. She was right. He was lost, and he had been for a long time.

“You’ve been running from something,” she continued. “Carrying a weight that’s not yours to carry.”

Kyle’s breath hitched. His mind flashed to the memories he had tried so hard to forget—the failed relationships, the people he lost, the friends who’d turned away when things got hard… the brother he couldn’t protect… The world that had chewed him up and spit him out.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he whispered, his hands trembling as they rested on the table. “I don’t know how to be... anything anymore. I don’t know if I want to be anything anymore.”

The woman reached across the table, placing her hand gently on top of his. “You don’t have to fix it all at once. Sometimes, the first step is just letting go.”

Kyle blinked at her, his throat tight. “How?”

The woman stood up, giving him one last warm smile. “One step at a time. And you’ve already taken the first one.”

As she walked away, Kyle felt a strange sense of peace settle over him. He glanced out the window, and to his surprise, the streets outside weren’t the familiar, grimy city he had grown used to. Instead, the view was filled with bright, colorful buildings, bustling markets, and people walking around with purpose and joy.

For the first time in years, Kyle felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was a second chance. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way back from the darkness after all.

Kyle looked down at his empty plate, then back at the bustling café, warm light casting golden hues on the walls. It felt almost magical, too perfect to be real. His eyes drifted back to the woman who had served him. She wasn’t touching the coffee cups—just gesturing in the air, her lips moving as if casting spells. Was that... magic?

Transfixed, Kyle stood up, gathered his plate, and approached the counter. “Why are you doing this for me?” he asked, his voice uncertain.

She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe I just like you,” she teased. At this moment, Kyle truly noticed her beauty, her kindness, and the way her magic seemed to light up the room.

“What’s your name?” he asked softly.

“Vivian,” she replied, stepping closer. “And you, Kyle, needed help.”

He stared at her. "How do you know me?"

“I’ve known you for a long time,” Vivian said gently. “And you need to be reminded that life can still hold magic.”

“I’m not worth the trouble,” Kyle muttered.

Vivian’s eyes met his with compassion. “You are worth more than you know. That’s why you’re here.”

Overwhelmed, Kyle admitted, “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to,” she reassured him, her hand hovering near his. “Just let yourself be here. Believe that magic and beauty still exist.”

Kyle, for the first time in years, felt a flicker of hope. “Why me?” he asked, vulnerability in his voice.

“Because I see the light in you, even if you don’t,” she whispered.

Kyle smiled a small but real smile. “Can I stay?”

Vivian’s eyes sparkled. “For as long as you need. You’re safe here.”

Years, days, or weeks had passed—Kyle couldn’t tell anymore. His sense of time had become a blur, slipping through his fingers like sand. He lived each day in this new world, blacking out and waking up as though caught in an endless loop. But the days didn’t bother him; they were filled with warmth, with her—Vivian, or Vivi, as he lovingly called her. The coffee shop they shared had become their home, a cozy sanctuary from everything outside. The thought of leaving had never crossed his mind, nor had the question of why they didn’t venture beyond its walls. The café was their world, and he had no desire for anything else. He didn’t need freedom, not when he had her.

Kyle spent his days fixing things around the café—tightening loose bolts on chairs, polishing the countertops, and tending to small tasks that gave him purpose. Meanwhile, Vivi moved through the space like a graceful apparition, preparing food and drinks with a flick of her wrist, muttering incantations under her breath. The customers who came in were faceless blurs, shadows of people who neither spoke nor demanded anything of him. They were just... there. At first, the faceless patrons unnerved him, but as time passed, it no longer mattered. He had Vivi, and that was enough.

He loved her deeply. The kind of love that consumed everything else. He loved her so much that nothing else in the world mattered—his past, his freedom, and the blurred details of the café, all faded in comparison to her. She filled his life with magic, quite literally, and after what felt like a year, that magic began to seep into him too. He could feel it in his veins, like electricity coursing through his body. The blackouts became more frequent, but when he was awake, he was unstoppable. He found himself able to create things with mere gestures—turning sunlight into paintings and moving objects with the flick of a finger. His abilities grew stronger, more refined as if the café itself was feeding him power, or perhaps it was Vivi’s love that fueled his newfound strength. He couldn’t tell, but he didn’t care. He felt alive in a way he never had before.

One day, while Kyle was painting shapes in the air with light, Vivi’s voice broke through the gentle hum of magic in the café.

“Love, it is time,” she said softly, her voice like a melody.

Kyle turned to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips brushing her soft hair.

“Time for what?” he asked, his voice low, filled with affection.

Vivi looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with something he couldn’t quite place.

“To let go...” she whispered, and before he could react, she leaned in and kissed him, her lips soft and bittersweet.

Suddenly, the world shifted. Darkness flooded his vision, and Kyle felt the ground fall away beneath him. He grasped desperately for something—anything—but all he could feel was emptiness. The memories of the café, of the magic, of Vivi began to slip away, like water draining from a cracked vessel. He tried to hold on to her, to the life they had built together, but the images dissolved one by one, erasing themselves from his mind.

Panic set in. He fought to remember the warmth of her touch, the sweetness of her kiss, the safety of their shared home, but it was all disappearing. He was scared, and then... numb. The blackness consumed everything. He couldn’t feel her arms around him anymore, nor her lips on his. All that remained was silence.

Kyle fought to open his eyes, willing himself to wake up, to return to the café. He struggled against the void, pushing with every ounce of strength he had left. And then, with a sudden gasp, his eyes snapped open.

But what he saw was far worse than the darkness.

He was back in the park. The cold, damp air stung his skin, and the familiar sight of the old bench came into view. He was lying there, sprawled out, and as he looked down, a small drop of blood dripped from his forearm, slowly making its way to his palm. A long streak of crimson traced back up his arm, the mark of a needle puncturing his skin. Kyle’s heart sank as the truth crashed over him. The syringes scattered around the bench told the story.

“No,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, no, no...”

He tried to force himself back into that dream, into the magical world where he felt alive—where he was loved. But no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, the sounds of the park remained. The rustling of leaves, distant traffic, the cold wind biting at his skin. The dream was gone, and he was stuck here, in the grim reality he had tried so hard to escape.

A soft touch on his shoulder made his heart leap in his chest. For a split second, hope surged through him. Maybe, just maybe, it was Vivi. Maybe she had found a way to bring him back to her.

He opened his eyes, his heart pounding.

"Hey," a voice said, soft but urgent. "Are you okay?"

Kyle blinked, his vision clearing. It wasn’t Vivi but at the same time, it was her. She was standing above him, her eyes filled with concern. She wasn’t part of the café or the magic world he had lived in. She was real. Her hair was loose and Kyle could see that under the jacket she was wearing a waitress uniform. She was that waitress from the coffee shop he used to go before…. Before the incident that took his brother.

Kyle didn’t know what to say. His head was spinning, his heart pounding with grief for the loss and fear of what was to come. He sat up slowly, his hands shaking as he held his head. It felt like it was going to explode from the pressure. As his gaze dropped, he saw the syringes littering the ground again….

"You look lost," the woman said, her voice gentle but firm. Her words struck a chord deep within him, pulling him fully into the present.

Kyle looked up at her, his heart still heavy, but there was something in her voice that made him pause. She was real. This moment was real.

“I... I think I am,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The woman knelt beside him, her hand resting on his arm. “It’s okay. You’re Kyle, right? You’re going to be alright. We’ll figure this out.”

Kyle looked at her, seeing not the magic, but a different kind of hope—a fragile, uncertain hope, but hope nonetheless. He didn’t know where to go from here, didn’t know how to start rebuilding after everything had fallen apart.

And as he sat there, in the quiet park, Kyle realized that perhaps it was time to stop running from the real world, no matter how painful it seemed. A sudden realization came to him - Vivi wanted him to let go… of his life. This could’ve been his last dose…. But then he thought - This should be his last dose. He could start again. Perhaps, for the first time, he could find something real.