Jack

The sun beat down harshly, bathing the cracked sidewalks in a haze that shimmered like a mirage. The heat wasn’t real. Nothing was real. Not the empty streets. Not the peeling billboards. Not the man pacing outside the corner store, muttering to himself like a broken record.
His name— did he have a name? He thought he might. Sometimes, it was Jack. Other times, it was nothing at all. He preferred it that way. Names were shackles. Labels for leashes. He didn’t need a leash. Not anymore.
Jack dragged a finger along his jagged teeth, the yellowed edges catching the light like tarnished knives. “Hello world!” he whispered, his voice cracked and thin, as if he’d swallowed gravel for breakfast. He might have. He paused, staring at the sky. It was too blue. Too happy. The kind of blue that wanted to mock you, to laugh at your misery while it floated along, carefree.
“Shame, shame, shame on you.” he sang under his breath, a singsong mantra that made his head tilt. A dog barked across the street— a scrappy thing, ribs poking through its fur like xylophone keys.
“See? You get it,” Jack said, pointing at the dog. “You bark, you growl, but you don’t know. You’re perfect. Perfectly stupid.” He crouched on the pavement, knees cracking, and waved at the dog. It wagged its tail uncertainly, head cocked.
“Good boy. Or girl. I don’t care. Do you care? No, you don’t. That’s why I like you. You don’t ask questions. You don’t judge.” Jack’s voice sharpened, his words hissing out through clenched teeth. “Not like them. No. They always have something to say, don’t they? Always whispering, ‘Jack did this, Jack did that’.”
He snapped his head to the left, glaring at nothing. “I didn’t do it. You know that. You know that!” His voice echoed down the empty street, startling the dog, which bolted behind a trash can.
Jack blinked. “Fine. Run then. Just like everyone else.” He stood up, brushing the dust from his knees. The gravel bit into his palms, but he welcomed the sting. Pain was good. Pain was real.
The store’s door jingled as a woman stepped out, carrying a plastic bag. Jack froze, staring at her like she’d stepped out of a dream. Her face was soft, normal, boring. He hated it.
“Hi there!” he said, grinning too wide. The woman stiffened, her steps quickening as she crossed the street. “Oh come on! You don’t even know me!” Jack called after her. He waved his arms dramatically, a marionette with severed strings.
“Shame, shame, shame!” He shouted, laughing as the woman disappeared around the corner. “They always run. Always. Like cockroaches. Like rats.”
He spun in a circle, arms outstretched, eyes to the sky. “This is great! Just great! Everything’s so bright and beautiful and fake!” His voice cracked on the last word, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach.
A quiet moment passed, the street eerily silent save for the hum of distant traffic. Jack’s breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers twitching like spider legs.
He straightened, his expression hardening. The fun had faded. He could feel it slipping away, replaced by the gnawing thing in his chest. It clawed at his ribs, whispering. He wasn’t quite sure what it whispered.
Jack shuffled down the street, his bare feet slapping the hot pavement. The heat bit at his soles, but he didn’t care. The pain was grounding. Pain was good. Pain keeps me here, he thought, though he wasn’t sure where ‘here’ even was.
The world around him simmered in the summer haze, a watercolor painting left out in the rain. The buildings seemed to sag, their once-proud facades crumbling into flaking paint and forgotten memories. Jack laughed. “You’re all falling apart too, huh? Just like me. Just like the rest of us.”
A fire hydrant caught his eye— chipped red paint peeling like old sunburn. He crouched beside it, running his fingers over the surface. “What do you think, huh? Holding all that pressure inside? One crack, and boom- you’re done. Just like me. Just like the rest of them.”
He tapped the hydrant twice, like he was sealing a pact, then straightened. Ahead, a shadow darted across the street. His head snapped towards it, his body taunt as a wire. “Who’s there?” he called, his voice jagged and sharp. “I saw you. You can’t hide. Nobody can hide.”
Silence.
“Fine. Play it that way.” He scratched at his temple, digging his nails into the skin until it burned. “Think you’re clever, huh? You’re not. I’ve seen clever. I’ve been clever. It never helps.”
Jack’s grin stretched impossibly wide, splitting his face like a jagged seam in fabric. He didn’t need to know who had been there. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. The air around him hummed. He took a deep breath, inhaling the hot, dry air like it was the finest wine.
“Do you ever just feel it?” he asked the cracked pavement beneath his feet, his voice lifting with excitement. He spun again, this time slower, like he was a dancer– graceful, or at least, he was pretending to be. His limbs jerked at odd angles, the rhythm broken by bursts of erratic laughter. The whole street seemed to shift beneath him, warping and stretching like melted wax. Or was it just him? Maybe he was the one melting. Or maybe everyone was. Yes, that felt right. Everything was just dripping away.
The sun blazed hotter. Burn brighter, you fake god. Jack thought, staring up into the mocking blue. He cackled again, slapping his thighs as he collapsed onto the pavement, his laughter peeling through the streets like a broken radio.
“Look at this! Look at me! Look at us!” he shouted, waving his arms like a conductor guiding a symphony of chaos. The world seemed to spin faster, the edges fraying and bending. Nothing was in control. Nothing ever would be again.
He pushed himself off the ground with a grunt, his knees creaking as if they might shatter like dry twigs. He laughed again, and it sounded wrong. Like it wasn’t even his laugh.
“What’s that? You’re all quiet now? Don’t be shy, world! Don’t be shy!” He spun, his arms stretched wide, fingers splayed. He was the only thing left in this world. Everything else was a lie. It had to be.
He jumped over a puddle, the splash sending droplets of dirty water up his legs. “Ahh! The stain,” he shouted, as though the water had tried to insult him. He wiped at his pants like he could scrub away the feeling of dirt that clung to him. But there was no use. He wasn’t clean. He hadn’t been clean in a long time.
The quiet was beginning to wear thin, like a stretched rubber band about to snap. Jack’s eyes flickered to the sky again, the sun too intense, too perfect. It wasn’t real. Nothing was. He hopped on one foot, then the other, as though it could somehow shake him loose from the numbness creeping into his limbs.
“Everything’s fake! FAKE! Everything’s so shiny and empty!” He spun in a wild, violent circle, his arms flailing like windmill blades, each movement a chaotic echo of his mind unraveling. The pavement beneath him was rough, but it was real. The sharpness in his chest was real. Everything was real. But only because he made it that way.
He stopped. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving, but his eyes shone with an electric intensity. He’d forgotten what he was looking for. Maybe he’d never known. Did it matter? No. Jack didn’t care. He was alive in a way that nobody else was. He was free.
He didn’t care. None of this mattered.
Jack stepped off the curb and into the street, walking like a man who’d decided the laws of the world were mere suggestions. He didn’t need to cross. He didn’t need to get anywhere. He just was, and that was all that was left.
“Come on world! Catch me if you can!” Jack howled, his laughter ripping through the air, joining with the hum of the universe, a sound as bright and warped as the sun. Everything was falling apart. But Jack was free.