It was Sunday, April 20th, 2035.
The sun peeked through the curtains, spilling soft golden light into the room as Luna stirred awake. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the brightness, then groaned as she sat up. Sundays were supposed to be lazy, but not for her—not today.
She dragged herself out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. With a quick shower and a simple outfit—a loose hoodie, leggings, and her worn-out sneakers—she tied her hair up in a bun and checked the list she’d scribbled onto her smart device.
Groceries. A lot of them.
She stepped outside and instantly felt the buzz of the city. Hovering vehicles zipped by above the streets in neat lines, glowing blue undercarriages shimmering as they moved. Luna sighed, tightening her grip on her bag. She didn’t own a hover car, just a basic ground cruiser—and now she’d have to deal with traffic.
As soon as she joined the main road, her frustration bloomed.
“Sigh~ this is bullshit,” she muttered, smacking the steering wheel lightly with her palm.
Of course, there was traffic. Hover lanes were packed, and the ground cruisers were at a crawl. Everyone had decided Sunday was grocery day, apparently. She leaned back in her seat, muttering complaints under her breath, until finally—twenty long, agonizing minutes later—the congestion eased up.
She rushed through the store, tossing items into her cart like a pro. Pasta, canned goods, synthetic meats, veggies in sealed freshness pods, water filters, snacks, instant noodles, cleaning supplies—basically anything that might save her a future trip. She didn’t want to come back out for at least a week.
By the time she got home, her arms ached from hauling bags up the stairs—her building’s elevator was still broken.
Kicking the door shut behind her, she groaned, dropping the bags onto the kitchen floor. She took a deep breath, letting the quietness of home settle around her. Groceries—check. But the place was a mess. Clothes on the couch, dust on the shelves, dishes in the sink.
She cleaned everything—mopped the floors, wiped every surface, even organized her closet. Eventually, her path led her to the attic, which she hadn't touched in years.
Just as Luna finished sweeping the dusty floorboards, she noticed a box tucked away in the corner under a sheet.
“What's this?” she muttered, wiping her hands on her pants before opening it.
Curious, she pulled out old belongings—photo albums, journals, gadgets from the early 2020s. Nostalgia hit hard. Her fingers brushed over everything gently, like touching pieces of her past. Then, beneath a stack of old books, she spotted it—her laptop.
The thing looked ancient. Scratched up, dusty, and covered in stickers that had long since faded.
“It probably won’t even turn on,” she murmured, holding it like a fragile memory.
Still, she couldn’t resist. She hurried downstairs with it in her arms, heart oddly excited. She found a plug that matched and connected it, then pressed the power button.
“Bztt—”
The screen flickered to life, low hum filling the room.
She gasped and smiled. “It’s still working.”
The desktop loaded slowly, but eventually, she was greeted with the familiar layout of her teenage years. Her eyes lit up as she scrolled through old folders—photos from high school, blurry selfies with friends, silly short stories, saved games, even chat logs.
Then her eyes landed on something strange. An icon she didn’t recognize. A dark-colored app titled: Offline.
“What’s this? I don’t remember having this here…” she murmured to herself, frowning a little. Maybe she downloaded it years ago and just forgot?
She clicked it open, expecting nothing…
But a single message appeared in the center of the screen. One line.
......
