Travis Kasperbauer’s legs ached. Badly.
After climbing 12 flights of stairs, he finally reached apartment #1212, where he was surprised to find that the door was unlocked
He reached into his front pocket for his phone but remembered that it wasn’t there, so he checked his watch instead. It was 6:23am. Glancing at the date, he realized that it was also Christmas Eve Eve.
He was too late. Missy was back in New York with her family by now. Not that he had actually found a present for her. He looked, but was unsuccessful to say the least.

With a defeated sigh, he pushed the door open and walked in.
“Travis?”
Missy sat upright on the couch in the so-called living room and rubbed her eyes. She had clearly been sleeping before he arrived.
“Missy?”
“Travis!”
Missy leapt up from the couch. As she rushed toward him, Travis opened his arms for the hug he was about to receive, and was thoroughly surprised when, instead of embracing him, Missy placed her little hands on his chest and gave him an angry shove.
Stumbling backwards, he collided with the open door behind him with so much force that it slammed shut.
“Where the hell have you been? You knew I had a 7:30 flight last night. You knew that. So what happened? Were you too busy or something? Too busy to even call me and say goodbye? Oh wait, I forgot, you’re incapable of using your phone. Ever. Jesus, Travis, I thought something had happened to you.”
“Missy,” Travis said quietly.
She continued. “Now I’m going to have to buy another plane ticket... You know what I should do? I should make you pay for it. It’s your fault. God, what were you thinking?!”
“Missy.”
“You never think about anyone else! You’re so selfish. All you had to do was call.”
“Missy.”
“I’d be at home with my family by now, but you just had to screw things up! You always screw things up.”
“Missy!”
“What?!”
Travis took a deep breath. “I didn’t call you because I lost my phone last night.”
“How convenient.”
“I was... mugged.”
“What?”
“Well, not really.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Travis paused to think. This was not coming out right. “I didn’t really get mugged... I was... attacked I guess. Twice.”
“Twice?”
“Yeah.”
“Now that’s just bad luck.”
“Well it was the same person both times.”
“Oh. That makes a little more sense.”
There was a pause. Nobody spoke for a few seconds.
“Wait, who attacked you? And why? What could you possibly have done to warrant an attack? And when did this happen? You don’t look like you’ve been attacked.”
Travis brushed a clump of shaggy hair off his forehead revealing the large, swollen bump where his attacker had struck him hours before. He then proceeded to roll up both of his sleeves, showing Missy the scattered marks and scratches on his arms where the man had pinned him down. Finally, he took off his scarf. Missy gasped.
“Holy shit,” she said.
A thick ring of bruises circled Travis’s neck. He hadn’t had access to a mirror since the attack, so he wasn’t fully aware of the severity of his battle wounds, but the look on Missy’s face confirmed his suspicions.
“How bad is it?” He asked.
Missy gently ran her fingers over the bruises. “I don’t understand. Why would someone do this to you?”

Travis explained everything, or at least everything he could remember. He told her about Vinny Johnson and the flyers, about the little shoe and the locked shed, about the hooded man and the attacks.
“...when I woke up an hour ago, he was gone and the shed was empty,” he said. “I blew it.”
“What? You know who he is now, or at least what he looks like,” Missy said.
Travis shook his head. “I chased him away. Knowing what he looks like doesn’t help when I don’t know where he is. I should have just gone to the cops or something.”
Missy was silent for a moment. “So go now,” she said. “They’ll want to hear what you have to say. I mean, it’s a lead, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so...”
“Alright then, let’s go.” Missy reached for the door.
“To the police station?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“Now?”
“Yes, Travis. This guy could be anywhere.”
“But...”
“Come on.”
Missy grabbed his wrist and pulled him out the door.

Walking to the staircase, Missy stopped suddenly.
“Shit. I forgot my bag,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
Travis watched the door close behind her and sighed. He really didn’t want to go to the police for some reason. Maybe it was because of what Vinny said: that the they weren’t helping, that they didn’t care. Maybe it was because Travis just really didn’t like cops. Or maybe he was just exhausted, too exhausted to try to explain his bizarre story to a bunch of people who may or may not give a shit.

A door opened. A young guy stepped out, locking the door behind him. Travis vaguely recognized him. His name was... Pink? No, that couldn’t be it. Pink is a color, not a name, right?

Pink turned and walked over to a nearby window overlooking the city, rested his arms on the window pane, and sighed. Travis wasn’t entirely sure if Pink noticed him standing in the corner until he started speaking.
“If you could have any superpower, which one would it be?” He asked.
Travis, a little surprised, took a second to process the question. After a moment, he finally said:
“The ability to stop time,” he nodded. “You?”
“I want to fly,” Pink said. “Far away from here.”
The door of apartment 1212 opened. Missy looked at Travis as she locked the door.
“Ready?” She asked.
He nodded.
Approaching the stairs, Travis looked back at Pink. He was still gazing out the window.
“See ya,” he said.
“Later,” Pink replied.

Out on the window ledge, a sparrow paced back and forth. After watching him enviously for a few minutes, Pink suddenly made a fist and pounded on the window, scaring the bird.
Then the sparrow flew away, and Pink resented him even more.