The Pasts

Chapter 1

You stand on the balcony of your twelfth floor apartment, camera in hand, as the sun dips below the city skyline. The evening light casts a soft, golden glow that bathes the bustling streets below in warmth a stark contrast to the cool breeze that teases your hair. You adjust the lens, focusing on a young couple laughing as they share a street vendor's hot dog, capturing a moment of simple joy.

From this height, the city seems peaceful, almost idyllic, but you know better. Each shadow and alley holds stories you've seen and captured, slices of life both bright and dark. You zoom in on a tired mother herding her two small children through the crowd. The way she rushes, there's an urgency, a desperation that feels all too familiar.

As you capture these scenes, a flicker of movement in an alley catches your eye. Your breath catches in your throat; it's just a stray cat rummaging through trash, but for a moment, it takes you back. Suddenly, you're not on your balcony but miles away and years back, on a mission that changed everything.

The smoke was thick, almost tangible, as it curled around you, stinging your eyes and clogging your lungs. You could hear the structure of the building groaning under its own weight, a terrifying soundtrack to the chaos. Amid the haze, the cries for help pierced the air, a desperate symphony that drove you forward.

You pushed through the debris, your uniform nearly torn from your body, skin bruised and bleeding. Each step was a battle against the instability of the ground and the urgency of the moment. "Hold on!" you shouted, your voice rough against the smoke. Ahead, the outline of someone trapped under a fallen beam became clearer. Their hand reached out, grasping blindly.

"Heads up!" you called to the others behind you. With adrenaline surging, you shoved a heavy piece of concrete aside, clearing a path. Your teammates followed, helping to move larger blocks of rubble, but time was slipping away as fast as the building was deteriorating.

Just when you were nearly close enough to touch the trapped person, a sudden, violent shudder ran through the building. You lunged forward, your heart pounding, desperate to reach them. But as the structure gave way, you were thrown back by the force of the collapse. The last thing you saw before hitting the ground was the hand, still reaching out, then disappearing under the rubble.

You lay there, dazed and coughing, as your team pulled you to safety. The sounds of their relief and the ongoing rescue efforts were muffled, distant, as if you were underwater. You tried to rise, to go back, but they held you back, telling you it was too late, that you needed to move on.

Back on the balcony, the memory fades as you lower your camera, your hands trembling slightly from the recollection. The ache in your chest is as raw now as it was then, the sense of failure, of not having saved everyone, still haunts you. You wipe a tear from your cheek, angry at yourself for the moment of weakness. With a deep, steadying breath, you refocus on the city below, the present pulling you back from the past, at least for now.

The chill of the evening air feels sharper as you come back to the present, the city sounds swelling up around you once more. You set the camera aside, rubbing your hands over your face, trying to erase the remnants of dust and smoke that linger only in your memory. A deep sigh escapes you, a silent acknowledgment of the burden you still carry.

Your phone buzzes on the small outdoor table, slicing through the silence and pulling you further from the past. It's Maria. You hesitate for a moment, the screen's glow a stark contrast against the dusk, then you swipe to answer.

"Hey, stranger," Maria's voice comes through, light but with a hint of concern. "How's my favorite hermit today?"

You manage a small chuckle, leaning against the balcony railing. "Just enjoying some quality time with my camera and the usual city chaos. How's life in the fast lane?"