The Dreams Machine

The world fades in. A dull ache resonates through your lower body – a constant reminder of your new reality.

You open your eyes to the familiar ceiling of your bedroom, a room that has become your entire world for the past eight months. Dust motes dance in the slivers of light cutting through the blinds. The trophies you won, once symbols of your passion and skill, sit neglected in a corner, mocking you with their golden gleam.

A wave of self-pity threatens to pull you under, a feeling you've become intimately acquainted with. You want to disappear, to rewind time to a moment before the concrete, before the pain, before that terrifying face in the crowd...

A sharp knock breaks the silence. "Hey, Mark. It's me. Let me in. I've come with good news."

It's Justin.