The sun is nearly gone. Neon lights flicker to life across shop signs and rooftop speakers. You walk the streets slowly, the faint sound of synthwave playing in the background.

A small crowd at a food stand parts instinctively as you pass. No one says anything. The air smells of soy sauce and sugar. You don’t eat.

A beat-up TV in a shop window plays old FNF clips on mute. Your old silhouette flickers in static on the screen. You stop. You stare.

(No one’s approached you yet. And maybe that’s for the best…)