Boredom. Boredom.

  Boredom... Boredom, he was thinking.

  His movements were mechanical, on repeat—like a machine fulfilling the same old boring purpose.

  Genki was outside, throwing trash bags into the large garbage bin, just like always.

  There was enough room in his head to remember his past accomplishments. What was once his greatest pride—trophies, medals, victories. That’s what Genki was thinking about in that moment.

  The wind blew through his messy brown hair. His uniform was a simple black shirt, fitting, paired with an apron from this fast-food chain everyone goes to for the drive-thru.

  "This is all stupid. And the wind is strong this evening... I hate it."

  He muttered to himself as he closed the heavy door by the trash area, sliding the lock into place across the wooden gate.

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  All he wished for was a better salary.

  This was his last thought before his larger-than-life boss spotted him.

  “What are you doing out here, moving so slow? Get back inside.”

  The man barked, throwing impatient hand gestures in Genki’s direction. Genki had been lost in his thoughts, but the noise dragged him back to reality.

  “Sorry, boss,”

  Genki replied, nodding slightly, trying to avoid another argument. This job was still his only source of income.

  “Yeah, yeah. But you’re not paid to relax—you’re paid to make food for my starving customers.”

  The man scowled, arms crossed, his sharp eyes matching the tone of his voice.

  He was a tall figure in the usual white uniform, sleeves rolled up as if that made him more commanding. Boss clothes. Boss voice. Boss attitude. Genki didn’t care.

  His shift was finally over.

  He made his way to the cramped locker room behind the kitchen, pulling out his usual change of clothes—a blue tracksuit and matching blue pants.

  Blue. It had always been his favorite color.

  But this worn-down tracksuit wasn’t just comfortable. It was what he had left of an older identity. A different time. A different version of himself.

  “This world is so boring... I hate this job,”

  he muttered under his breath while zipping up the jacket.

  He stepped outside again, the air colder now. His phone sat in his left pocket, wallet in the right. Just another night. Another dull walk. Another shift waiting tomorrow.

  “I can’t wait for the next day,”

  he said dryly, voice flat with sarcasm.