Well, a bit later than expected. Happy New Years to all goblins and gremlins reading this.



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It was miserable—there was no better word for it. Killing time behind the counter at a McDonald’s was never part of the plan, but ever since Miles vanished after stepping into the Go-Home Machine, plans had stopped meaning much. Miguel was left alone with the fallout, juggling responsibilities that were never meant to be his alone. By Saturday evening, exhaustion clung to him like a second skin; the holidays had rolled through the city like a train wreck, loud, invasive, and unforgiving. He was already done with the customers, the noise, the forced normalcy—so the last thing he expected was you showing up unannounced, a random visit cutting straight through the monotony of his night.