Jerry Stokes wandered through the narrow aisles of the comic book store, the scent of old paper and fresh ink clinging to the air. His friends—Bill, Josh, and Pete—were huddled near the back, already lost in one of their usual debates about who would win in some ridiculous crossover fight. Their voices rose and fell in animated bursts, Pete insisting on his point with wild hand gestures while Bill and Josh argued back, their words overlapping into a messy jumble of nerdy passion.

Jerry, however, wasn’t paying much attention. His focus was on the colorful spines that lined the shelves, his fingers brushing over the glossy covers as he carefully pulled out a few issues to examine. He crouched slightly, tilting one comic toward the light to admire the sharp artwork. The store was busy for a Thursday afternoon, filled with the rustle of pages and the muted hum of conversation.

Then, out of nowhere, someone slammed into him from behind. A hard shoulder checked against his back, sending him stumbling forward. The comics in his hands slipped from his grasp, scattering across the worn linoleum floor with a slap. Jerry blinked in surprise, heat rushing to his cheeks as he quickly bent down to scoop them up.