FIFTY MILLION.2

The city was bustling, the road was jammed, and both sidewalks were teeming. It seemed cheery all around, not because the people were actually happy, but because they were savoring the short reprise from their everyday routine.

Even still, the spirit of Christmas was in the air, though it wasn’t the season. Instead, it was the spirit of mass consumerism that drove the soul of this very street.

Not even with these distracting scenes, or the bumps in the road, gracefully cushioned by luxurious suspension, or the car abruptly stopping, nothing could distract from how absorbed this woman was in her laptop’s screen.

Even now, she was still working, like every other ride home.

She felt her eyes water, screaming for relief. Reluctantly, she removed her glasses, blinking rapidly as she looked farther than the laptop—to her driver, then to the windshield, then the world beyond the car—the sight making her sigh and mouth out a complaint, but she stopped herself.

She looked through her window, observing the people with a longing. She lingered on a passerby before switching to another. Then, she tracked a man whose cadence caught her attention.

It was languid, almost directionless. His back was bent towards the ground. His head was barely looking forward.

She put on her glasses again and took a closer look at his face—it looked tired, drained from everyday life. It reminded her of her father, but she couldn’t be too concerned with that right now. Besides, there were more people like him… and like her.

The car burst into speed, passing a block and a crossing before it stopped again, the heavy traffic unrelenting.

Suddenly, she found herself standing behind a man over the ledge—it wasn’t the same man she had seen earlier, but it disturbed her.

She looked around, noting her new surroundings—a building’s rooftop from out of nowhere, the rare stars twinkling dimly, the breeze of the cool night, and the distant noise of the city.

But she was quick to break out of her trance, watching the man once again.

His back was turned from her, and he was inching closer over the edge.

“Wait!” she lunged with her arms outstretched, but she was neither close enough nor on time. The man fell below.

She gasped hard and found herself back to reality—inside her car on the bustling street.

I have a minute.

“Let me out.”

The door unlocked without hesitation, and she pushed her laptop off her lap and rushed out, not bothering to close the door. Meanwhile, the driver sighed to himself, went out, and closed the door. “I wonder what premonition she had this time.”

She looked around frantically, trying to figure out which building was the rooftop she foresaw. She looked up, looking at each rooftop to see any signs of a silhouette at the edge, and saw none.

Damn it! Forty-five seconds.

She took a pause, quickly recollecting what she had seen in that vision, cross-referencing the signs and logos she could remember seeing from the rooftop, then took an educated guess and rushed into the entrance of a condo.

Coincidentally, a resident scanned their card to open the glass doors when she slipped through.
“Hey!”

She had no time to heed and rushed to the elevators. But neither elevator was on her floor.
I don’t know how many floors it will take!

She scanned for a stairwell and ran to it, and almost tripped, catching herself on the doorway. Quickly, she took her high heels off and carried them as she ran up the stairs barefoot.

Thirty seconds!

She dashed up on what seemed to be an endless flight of stairs, mentally counting the time, breathing through her mouth now. Pure adrenaline helped her desk-job fitness to rise above the occasion. Then, she spotted the rooftop door a few levels away, spurring her to race a bit faster.

Five seconds…

She was near exhausted now, but she had no time to catch her breath.

If he’s here, the door should be unlocked.
She twisted the knob and threw her shoulder at once, swinging it open, catching herself with her hands on her knees, and almost falling face-first.

Fatigue washed over her, her shoes slipping from her fingers, clattering on the concrete. Wheezing filled her ears; she couldn’t lift her head yet.
Just in time! A strange sense of confidence steadied her.
She worked saliva into her cotton-dry mouth and forced out, “W–Wait…” She swallowed and outstretched her hand. “Don’t do it.”

…

How do I change his mind, fast? How do I convince him to follow me, unconditionally? Maybe I should make him indebted to me first. But this guy… is difficult, but not impossible.

She thought, formulating the plan behind her next words as she slowly sauntered to the door. Her hand reached for the edge of the door, intending to pull it closed with her behind it.

No…

She stopped herself, her hand shifting from the edge of the door to its face.

This guy is so full of himself that he’s too scared to go through with it. He was waiting; he had to be waiting for someone to stop him, because he wanted attention. She scoffed softly. Fine, I’ll give him attention, but it must be so ridiculous that he cannot refuse.

She closed the door loudly and turned around, seeing him facing toward the ledge without daring another step.

Got you! In the palm of my hand. Now, become my playdough.

“Stop!” she called with practiced concern.

He turned around towards her in surprise, melting into a scowl. “I thought you left!” He clenched his fists, body rigid with tension.
Oh, no, you wished that I didn’t. The corners of her mouth curved. “I had a feeling you were going to try again.”

“That’s it.” He said sharply, startling her. He spun back and sprinted for the ledge.

It was a quality unseen from him before, which made her shiver down her spine.

No, NO! What!?

Her lips trembled for a split second, and she screamed:
“FIFTY MILLION!”