A Phone Call Across Ten Years

After I died in the study room fire, I opened my eyes again and found myself ten years in the future.

I dug out my phone from my backpack and carefully called my brother Ethan:

"Ethan, can you come pick me up?"

He didn't answer.

On the other end of the line, I could only hear heavy, labored breathing.

I couldn't help but feel afraid:

"If you can't, could you lend me some money?

"Ethan?"

Ethan, who was in the middle of attempting suicide, stumbled out of the blood-stained bathtub.

Through gritted teeth, he said: "I don't care who you are. Wait for me."

1

Cold raindrops fell.