First Place Winner of the 2026 “Strange Encounters” Flash Fiction Contest
Wake up. Coffee. Get dressed. Go.
It’s a routine like any other. Harry is numb to it at this point.
Walk. Subway. Walk. Work.
He can’t feel the people clamoring for their places beside him. The way they press into him like he isn’t even there.
Spreadsheets. Small talk. Spreadsheets. Meeting.
He can barely hear his coworkers’ words. They never talked to him much.
Walk. Subway. Walk. Home.
The light of the sun is the same type of blinding as his washed-out computer screen. White. Never ending. Impossible to look away.
Sleep.
He doesn’t dream.
Wake up. Coffee. Get dressed. Go.
The light is still taunting him when he steps out the door. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday — or maybe all his outfits look the same.
Walk. Subway. Walk. Work.
He pauses at the final crosswalk before the station. There’s a pain in his chest that he can’t understand.
Spreadsheets. Small talk. Spreadsheets. Meeting.
Their voices are static. He copies the numbers from one page to another.
Walk. Subway. Walk. Home.
The bodies pass through him. He pays them no mind.
Sleep.
Everything is in boxes. The landlord must have hired someone to clear out the place.
Wake up. Coffee. Get dressed. Go.
Not that the boxes have anyone to go to. Harry had never written a will. He had never needed one.
Walk. Subway. Walk. Work.
The bus that hit him is already back on its circuit. They’ve cleaned off the blood completely. Pedestrians walk over the spot like it’s nothing.
Spreadsheets. Small talk. Spreadsheets. Meeting.
His desk hasn’t been replaced yet, at least. If he had looked hard enough, he might have even seen some misty eyes.
Walk. Subway. Walk. Home.
His apartment is empty. He stares at the corpse of the living room for a while, until the sounds of the city finally quiet down for the night, until the sun finally makes its way over the horizon once more. Until the time comes for Harry to wake up. For him to get coffee. For him to get dressed.
Except — Harry does none of these things. When he finally goes, he catches the bus at that fated crosswalk and rides it out of the city.
Lane Ellis (they/them) is a 22-year-old, class of 2026 KSU graduate with a bachelor’s degree in English and minors in Professional Writing and Linguistics. They have been reading and writing non-stop since they were a child, and they are especially fascinated by unique and poetic styles of prose. Language is the bones of every story, after all, and rearranging the bones can lead to forms of writing never before seen. Going forward, they hope to complete a Creative Writing MFA and build their career in storytelling.