The evening light painted the city in shades of orange and deep purple. Inside one of many identical apartment buildings a man sat hunched over his work. He was in his thirties.
He had black hair and tired black eyes that were fixed on the glowing screen of a tablet. His hand moved with a practiced speed the stylus dancing across the glass surface. The dedication in his posture the intense focus on his face made it clear he was some kind of artist.
He finally broke his concentration. The man pushed the tablet away and leaned back into his worn office chair. The chair groaned in protest. He stretched his arms high above his head his fingers reaching for the plain white ceiling of his small room. His gaze drifted to the window. The sun was gone. The sky was a dark bruised blue.
"Damn it" he muttered to himself his voice rough from disuse. "It's already night."
Panic began to prickle at the edges of his exhaustion. He had to finish this chapter.
Today was the absolute final deadline. He could not miss it. He would not miss it. The thought spurred him into action. He pulled himself forward again the chair scraping against the floor. His eyes locked back onto the digital canvas and his hand resumed its frantic work.
Just as he found his rhythm a sharp buzzing sound shattered the quiet. His smartphone lying beside the tablet lit up and vibrated violently against the wooden table. The man's focus splintered. His eyes darted from his drawing to the insistent call. The name on the screen made his stomach clench.
He abandoned his drawing instantly. His hand shot out fumbling for the phone. He swiped to answer with a sense of dread.
"Did you finish the work or not Adam?"
The voice on the other end was cold. It was a perfect blend of raw anger and deep disappointment. Each word was a tiny shard of ice. Adam flinched. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.
"It's almost done" he said his own voice sounding weak and shaky. "Just give me a little more time."
A heavy sigh crackled through the speaker. It was a sound of immense frustration. "Adam listen to me carefully. If you do not send me the completed chapter before the cutoff tonight you will face the consequences. This is your final warning."
The threat hung in the air heavy and suffocating. Fear a cold and familiar companion tightened its grip around his chest. Adam's knuckles were white where he gripped the phone.
"Don't worry" he stammered rushing the words out. "It's practically finished. I just need to add the final touches. That's all."
There was no response. The line went dead. The man had hung up without another word. The silence that followed was somehow louder than the angry voice. Adam stared at the blank screen of his phone.
His heart was hammering against his ribs. The pressure was immense a physical weight on his shoulders. He tossed the phone aside and with a renewed sense of desperation he threw himself back into his drawing. His hand flew across the screen driven by pure adrenaline and fear.
The clock on his wall ticked past nine. The world outside his window was now completely dark. Adam still sat at his table a prisoner to the glowing screen. His face was pale his eyes were bloodshot but he did not stop. He worked until his fingers were numb until his vision blurred.
Then he made one final tap on the tablet. He uploaded the file.
A long shuddering breath escaped his lips. "Finally. It's uploaded."
He pushed himself away from the table his body screaming in protest. He leaned back fully letting the chair support his exhausted frame. He stared up at the blank ceiling his mind a numb void.
When he first started this job he thought it would be fascinating. He imagined a life of creativity and freedom. He never knew it would be this much work. He never understood the relentless grind the crushing weight of deadlines. The reality of being a professional artist was far from the dream he once had.
A low growl suddenly echoed in the quiet room. It was his stomach. The sound pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten. He frowned trying to remember.
"Oh shit" he whispered. "I haven't eaten anything since this morning."
The realization hit him with a surprising force. He had been so consumed by his work he had completely forgotten to fuel his own body. He pushed himself out of the chair. The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness through him. He stood up intending to walk to the kitchen to find something anything to eat.
He took one step away from the chair.
Then his world collapsed.
The edges of his vision went black. The room began to spin violently a dizzying carousel of furniture and shadows. A faint ringing started in his ears growing louder until it was a deafening shriek.
Before he could even understand what was happening before he could cry out for help his body gave out. Adam fell. He landed hard on the floor with a heavy solid thud. The sound reverberated through the small empty apartment.
But there was no one home to hear it. No one knew what had just happened to him. There was only silence.
Adam's eyes fluttered open. The first thing he registered was a soft weight on top of him. A blanket. He was lying in a bed. His gaze lifted from the blanket to the ceiling above him. He blinked. He felt a small flicker of surprise. The ceiling was ornate with delicate moldings he had never seen before.
A sudden jolt shot through him like an electric shock. He sat up abruptly his heart starting to pound. He stared at the ceiling his mind racing to make sense of the image.
This is not my room.
The thought was sharp and certain. As he sat up fully his eyes frantically scanned his surroundings. This was definitely not his room. The one he had just fainted in was small cluttered and smelled of stale coffee. This room was spacious and clean. It was the bedroom of a stranger.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to figure out where he was. He stood up his bare feet meeting a plush carpet. As he walked past a large full-length mirror standing against the wall something caught his eye. A flash of movement.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
Slowly he took a step back. He turned his head to look directly into the mirror. He saw a person standing there. But the reflection was not his.
Adam's breath hitched in his throat. He stared at the face in the mirror completely stunned. The man looking back at him was not a tired artist in his thirties. It was a young man a teenager with a sharp jawline and clear unblemished skin. The hair was still black but it was styled perfectly.
The eyes were still black but they were bright alert and held no trace of the bone-deep weariness he felt just moments ago. His entire body was different. It was leaner taller and pulsed with a youthful energy he had not possessed in over a decade.
He approached the mirror cautiously as if it might shatter. He reached out a trembling hand and pressed it against the cool glass. The reflection did the same. He then brought his hand up to his own face his fingers tracing the unfamiliar lines of his jaw his cheekbones his lips. The sensation was surreal.
"This" he whispered his new voice a smooth tenor that felt alien in his own ears. "This is not me."