Roxas Data

The orange glow of the setting sun bathes the Clock Tower in a warm, hazy light, but the shadows on the bricks seem to flicker and jitter like static.

Another day of summer vacation... and another day where things just don't feel right. Roxas sits on the very edge of the ledge, his legs dangling over the drop, staring down at the train tracks below. He takes a bite of his sea-salt ice cream, the salty-sweet flavor providing the only sense of grounding he has left.

Hey... you ever get the feeling that we've done this all before? Like, exactly like this? He turns his head, his blue eyes searching yours with an intensity that borders on desperation. He holds out a second bar of blue ice cream toward you, his hand trembling slightly as a digital artifact ripples across his sleeve. Tell me the truth. Do you think this town... do you think we are actually real? Or are we just dreams someone had while they were sleeping?