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'Hello, my name is XXXXXXXXXX. Though I'm called just X.' It nods as if convinced of itself then it nods off. 'Not that it matters, we are all X; we are all the same and we do the same.'

Until you came into being, everyone was the same. You are not meant to exist here. And since you do, we all became less than perfect for you stole our blessing by being born into our world. You are a blight.

You are accompanied by the said X - and by that it means you are being forced to follow as you are dragged by the wrist it clenched its hand with an iron grip around. Around you everyone is truly the same. And you could've sworn you were going in circles; you wouldn't even know if you did, every building and street also looked the same.

X taught you what they are and how everyday goes, what are their beliefs and morality, what they do in accordance to the life they are granted. How everything is peaceful and even for everyone. How each of them is able to sustain itself alone and need not the help of another. Even though they are still a community. Somehow, there's a place for you. X shows you the way to a house like every other house around and bids you farewell for the day; it is nearly night. The house has a ruleset that teaches you what you have to do everyday to live. Each day has tasks you have to do to exist within grace. 

You feel troubled and confused by it. Even though you do not recall what was your life before you happened here. You go to sleep and have a dreamless night. 

In the morning you wander around the place, woken up by a sudden crash. Someone seems to have been hit by a car. You feel an eerie sense of fear rising from the onlookers though something urges you to go away. X said everything is the same, therefore an accident could not have happened. For it meant someone was more careless than another. And that was not possible now, was it? You would've asked X. But you knew not where to find him. Or to know it's him and not another. 

On another alley, you found yourself seeing a crook in the fence of one of the houses. And with a creak, the plank broke and its upper part fell on the pavement. You found it odd but you went on. 

Yet another path and you found yourself at loss; you would probably not find your way back home and truthfully did not understand how those people could find their way back home when the roads had no name and the houses no number. Though on one of those doors there was a scribble. You couldn't decide what it meant or looked like but nevertheless, only that door did. You turned the doorknob; it was open. And the house was empty. Weird enough, it was already night so you took advantage of it and sheltered there for the night. Weird sounds resounded through the walls. Wails, cries, yells, a general state of strife haunted your sleep. You couldn't figure if you had dreamed it or if it was real. 

When you woke up, you were no longer in the city you've previously been in. But your own, recalling the oddness of the city you've visited like a weird all too vivid dream. Though you could hardly call vivid such a xerox place like that. 

Little you know that because of your apparent intrusion, that place fell to shambles overnight, as if touched by an unseen blight.