Suddenly, the world went grayscale. The roar of the city silenced into a low, analog hum. Across the street, a girl in the exact same jacket—zipped to the chin—tilted her head. Her Tomio-chan patch wasn’t static; it winked.
He pulled the zipper all the way to his throat, the fabric hugging him like armor. The girl gestured toward an alleyway that shouldn't have existed.
"You found the key," she said, her voice sounding like a vinyl record spinning backward.