Leo’s screen glowed in the dim light of his studio apartment, the 47th open tab a single, stark line of text:

The silence was loud. No hum of the hard drive, no glow of the blue light. He sat in the dark, listening to the creak of the building, the distant wail of a siren, his own breath.

He clicked.

Leo sat back. He didn’t feel a surge of motivation or clarity. He felt light. Hollowed out in a good way, like a room after the junk is cleared.

He realized he’d just moved up. Not to a new job or a higher salary, but to a different floor entirely. One where the only advanced resource pack was a dusty guitar, a blank page, and the terrifying, wonderful choice of what to do next.

The icon vanished.