Carlos stood beside an older man waiting quietly outside a nearby building. The street around them was strangely still, the kind of stillness that made even distant traffic seem far away and unimportant.

Somewhere deep down, Carlos knew he was supposed to help this man get inside.

That certainty had settled into him without explanation.

The old man stood stubbornly near the curb with his hands folded tightly in front of him, staring out toward the empty street rather than at Carlos.

“You really should go inside,” Carlos said again gently but with a slight edge to his voice.

The old man shook his head immediately.

“I can’t,” he replied.

Then after a moment, more firmly:

“I won’t.”

Carlos frowned.

He did not understand why the man refused to enter the building, but the longer he resisted, the more uneasy Carlos became. It felt increasingly obvious to him that something was wrong about the old man remaining outside.

“You don’t understand,” Carlos insisted quietly. “You need to go in there.”

The old man still refused to move.

A strange agitation slowly crept into Carlos’ chest. Not anger exactly.

Then, without warning, the old man disappeared.

One moment he was standing there beside the curb.

The next moment, there was nothing there at all.

Carlos froze.

The street remained completely still around him.