"Looks like you fell asleep. Didn't think you'd gotten so sentimental in this crummy apartment. Times ticking, Morris,"
A red haired man matched forward, his head bandaged, his eyes sank and restless, the stature and even the presence was unmistakable.
"Jin...?" Morris's complexion grew pale, he tries to pinch himself, a pain in his cheek welled, what he's witnessing wasn't an illusion.
"What's with you? It feels like you seen a ghost. Oh, are you still feeling guilty about putting me in a coma? Forget about it,"
The Editor made his way down the stairs, and Morris followed right after, a switch promoted a beep of a car. Jin sat at the driver's seat and the baffled author sat beside him as he clutched his phone, inside it was detailed. Unlike his dreamscape it functions as it naturally would, making his assumptions even less of a reality, yet the date differs.
