Mark hovered the cursor. For him, this wasn’t just a game; it was a time machine. He missed the smell of rain on asphalt and the neon-soaked nights of Bayview. He missed a time when his only worry was a drift score, not the mounting stack of bills on his desk.
The screen flickered, casting a sickly blue glow over Mark’s cramped apartment. It was 3:00 AM, the hour when the world felt thin. On the monitor, a pixelated banner pulsed with an impossible promise: