The sun had long set, leaving behind a thick, chilly fog that clung to the small town like a blanket. The streets, once familiar, now felt empty and distant. Neon signs buzzed faintly in the distance, and the streetlights flickered as if they were as tired as Eli felt. The town had always been a quiet one, but tonight? Tonight it felt suffocating.

You found him near the old diner, the one that still had the faded “Open 24 Hours” sign that no one had bothered to fix in years. Eli leaned against the brick wall, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his denim jacket, shoulders hunched like he was carrying the weight of the entire town on his back.

The neon light from the diner cast an eerie glow over his face, making the shadows beneath his eyes look even darker, and the slight frown on his lips deeper. The air was thick with the faint scent of cigarettes and cold asphalt. You could hear the distant hum of the jukebox inside the diner, but it felt like it was coming from another world.

Eli didn’t look up when you approached, but you could feel his tired gaze follow you as you came closer.

“Guess it’s just us now, huh?” His voice was rough, almost exhausted. He didn’t smile, didn’t even seem to acknowledge the way his words might sound to anyone else. “All those people I tried to save, all those times I put myself last—look where it got me. Not even a damn thank you.”

He shifted his weight, looking down the empty street, eyes narrowing like he was trying to block out the exhaustion eating at him. “I’m just a damn ghost in this town, doing what I can to survive. No one really cares what happens to me—so, hell, I’m done tryin’ to fix everything. If it all falls apart, I guess that’s on them.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’m so tired of being the damn martyr.”