The sterile light overhead shattered into pieces, fragments scattering into the dark. Adrian’s outline broke apart too, dissolving at the edges until he was gone, and all I had left was the sound of his name pounding in my skull.
Adrian.
Adrian.
And then—silence.
The darkness splintered, a grainy sepia-toned light bleeding through.
Adrian once told me that the brain stays alive for up to seven minutes after you die.
I guess he was right because here I am, still thinking of him—still chasing the sound of his voice through the dark, still hoping seven minutes is long enough to find my way back to the light.
Back to him.
Part Two
The Reel
Chapter 3
The First Minute
ELI
The darkness didn’t just fade; it unfolded, thick and warm, carrying me somewhere I hadn’t been in years. I was barefoot in the backyard of my childhood home, the sun baking my shoulders, grass stiff beneath my toes. The cicadas created a deafening symphony that threatened to shake the whole world apart.
I gripped the baseball mitt in my hand; the leather worn and soft. My father crouched in front of me, grinning as if no time had passed at all. “C’mon, Elias,” he said, voice warm and alive. “Show me what you’ve got.”
My lungs seemed to stretch open for the first time in hours. The panic that gripped my heart loosened. The stinging pain of glass shards and bruising faded. I wasn’t strapped to a gurney. I wasn’t bleeding out. I was whole again, smiling, breathing air thick with the smell of summer and beginnings. My hands itched to catch the ball, to feel the leather bite into my fingers.My heart thudded—not with fear, but with a pulse that felt like possibility.
I threw the ball, heard it whistle through the air, and felt my chest expand with something I hadn’t realized I’d been missing until that moment—pure, unguarded joy. My father laughed, and the sound pulled me fully into the memory.
The sun burned. The grass smelled sweet. My fingers clutched the leather mitt. And I could feel, in the deepest parts of me, the reel spinning forward, ready to unravel every moment that mattered, every touch, every laugh, every heartbeat that had led me to Adrian.
The image faded, replaced by a bark. High, eager, familiar. I turned, and there he was, bounding toward me. Max. My dog. The mutt we adopted from the shelter when I was nine, his ears too big for his head, his joy too big for his body. His paws kicked up little sprays of dirt as he tore across the yard, tongue lolling, eyes bright.
I dropped the ball and fell to my knees just before he slammed into me like he always did, all fur and warmth and unconditional love. His weight bowled me over into the grass, and I laughed so hard it hurt. His breath was hot against my cheek, his tail wagging wildly as he danced, and for a second, I was swallowed whole by the kind of love that never asked for anything in return.
For the first time in forever, I felt safe.
The grass faded. The cicadas’ drone melted into the squeak of sneakers on polished wood. Middle school gym. The air smelled of rubber soles and sweat. I was twelve, a scrawny,awkward boy gripping a basketball too big for my hands. My best friend dared me to take the shot.
The world narrowed to the rim, the ball heavy with possibility. I held my breath and threw it. It arched beautifully; everyone was silent—then,swish.
For a moment, everything stopped.
Then came the noise: cheers, laughter, the pounding of feet. My ears rang with it. Heat rushed up from my stomach, flooding my limbs until I felt weightless. My legs wobbled, but I couldn’t stop grinning. I wasn’t invisible. Imattered.
It was the first time I’d ever felt proud of myself, unquestionably, unapologetically proud.
The scene flickered and shifted.
A bonfire at the lake. Teenagers laughing, faces glowing in the firelight. The acrid sweetness of smoke clung to my clothes, mingling with the sour tang of cheap beer. Music played from a speaker. My first kiss was with Josh Sinclair, and it was messy, clumsy, and full of nerves and fumbling hands. My stomach flipped. My chest lifted and dropped with the thrill of it, and my heartbeat drummed erratically. I remember thinking maybe the world had a place for me, and I might just survive it.
Another flicker.
Bulbs flashed. Cheers erupted. Someone shouted my name across the crowd, and I turned just in time to see my friends waving their caps in the air, faces split with grins that made everything blur for a second. The flashbulbs of hundreds of cameras firing at once were blinding, the pop and click of shutters like drumbeats.
